


Mercy

by skybone



Series: Tapestry [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Feels, Dubious Consent, F/F, Friendship, Heavy Angst, Relationship Issues, Smut, The Left Hand of the Divine, but do not despair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 10:29:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3933361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skybone/pseuds/skybone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leliana and Josephine are together, but the path of love is most definitely not smooth. Sequel to Josephine's Weapon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mercy

**Author's Note:**

> In this story the path of love contains a significant amount of pain and angst and dysfunction. But it also contains a fair helping of love and kindness.
> 
> Also smut. 
> 
> The story leads up to and includes most of the quest _The Left Hand of the Divine_ and adds detail to it. 
> 
> I have tagged this as Dubious Consent because there are emotionally dysfunctional sexual encounters included in the overall dysfunctionality. It might be more accurate to tag it as Mildly Dubious Consent, but as it could be triggering for some I figured I'd better tag it as dubcon. 
> 
> Obviously a story with Josephine/Leliana and FemQuisitor/Cassandra pairings does not follow canon, but I've also strayed from it in other ways, see the notes at the end. If it makes you more comfortable think of it as an AU. 
> 
> The world, characters, and some lines of dialogue have been borrowed from Bioware and taken out to play; the rest is mine.

When Leliana came to her that night, Josephine had not expected her. The day had been stressful for all of them, particularly the spymaster, and there were so many urgent matters to attend to, so many messages to send and receive, that she had expected Leliana would choose to doze when she could on the narrow cot in her room in the Rookery. (There was a reason their assignations were habitually in Josephine's bedroom; the Ambassador was quite certain that the spymaster's room had originally been a storage cupboard, and was of the opinion that it currently maintained similar amenities. However, Leliana had made it clear that she preferred convenience to comfort when it came to her quarters, and so that was that.) 

The Ambassador had prepared for bed as usual; she had bathed and put on her nightgown and cleaned her teeth. She had set out her things for the morning and put her clothing in the press. She had prepared a last cup of soothing herbal tea and was about to sit by the fire, enveloped in the comfort of a blanket and the warmth of the flames, and let her mind relax into daydreams. But as she knelt in front of the fire to stir up the last of the coals the door opened, and Leliana slipped into the room. Josephine stood and turned to face her enquiringly, opening her mouth to speak, but Leliana laid quick fingers on her lips to silence her.

So. That was how it was to be. She should have expected it, after all the setbacks of the day and the eruptions of opinion at the War Table.

She began to turn back to the fire, but the fingers were followed by the spymaster’s mouth, warm and insistent, and hands were sliding over her ribs. She could feel cold chainmail through the thin fabric of her nightgown, but then warm hands were on her breasts, stroking and sliding, and her nipples were abruptly hard and aching under the cloth, and she was suddenly breathless and her legs felt as if they could no longer support her, as if they _refused_ to support her, and she made an involuntary little moaning sound.

Leliana chuckled deep in her throat, and pulled the laces at the neck of the gown loose and bent her head to Josephine’s breast. Josephine wrapped her arms around the spymaster and arched her back against those teasing lips. Leliana maneuvered her not to the bed, which was on the other side of the room, but just two steps back to a heavy table, and lifted her half on to it, pulling Josephine’s nightgown up as she did so. And then she was sinking to her knees between Josephine’s thighs, and her mouth was _there_ , her tongue clever and insistent, and Josephine’s hips rocked against her, she could not have stopped if she wanted to, leaning back on her arms and praying that they would not give way under the assault of these waves of pleasure, and Leliana’s arms wrapped round her thighs, supporting her and pinning her, and oh, now, nowpleasenow

It was very fast, and very intense, and left her trembling. She could not prevent herself from reaching out for Leliana, but the spymaster caught her hand and stopped her. She was rising, wiping her face and smiling. “I cannot stay,” she whispered, stroking Josephine’s cheek. And then she was gone.

She never could stay, on such nights.

Josephine remained sitting on the edge of the table for a few minutes, until she had herself under control, and then stood and walked to the settee by the fire. She wrapped herself in the blanket, carefully tucking her feet into its folds to keep them warm, and lifted the cup of tea. It had not yet had time to go cold, though it was not as hot as she preferred. She drank three mouthfuls quickly and then added more from the pot. There. That was better.

The rest of the tea she drank more slowly, this time not noticing as it cooled. Her body was still resonating from the attention it had received, but she was not entirely... satisfied. She still wanted...

She wanted to turn to her bed, and find Leliana there. She wanted to tangle her limbs with those of the spymaster. She wanted to touch her, and do all the things to Leliana that Leliana had done to her, and more.

She wanted to _touch_ Leliana.

And it would not happen, it would not be permitted. Not tonight, at least. Leliana could turn her into a puddle, could take her and leave her gasping and boneless, and then she was gone, and Josephine’s hands were empty.

It seemed ungrateful to be unhappy about this. There were other nights—many nights, sometimes for days or even weeks in a row—when Leliana stayed until morning, almost as if they were an old married couple, and they wrapped themselves together and spoke and touched and experimented and sometimes scarcely slept, and were borne past the fatigue of the next day by excitement and the wonder of being in love. On those nights she felt no doubts; Leliana was warm and playful and loving and talkative, and asked for Josephine’s touch, and her deep affection shone bright and clear.

But this night—and some other nights—were different.

Josephine was not sure why these occasional speechless encounters simultaneously caused her to feel so much excitement and so much distress. Was it the silence? No. Silence at certain times could actually be very, hm, stimulating... certainly it was not disturbing in itself.

No. It was that when Leliana demanded silence in this way, Leliana was not really _there_.

Josephine had never before known a person as guarded as the spymaster. The Ambassador supposed that it was natural for Leliana to be secretive, because in her work as the Left Hand of the Divine and now the spymaster of the Inquisition, secrets and silence and invisibility were her trade. Secrets had value, being a currency that was accepted everywhere, and silence protected them. Leliana collected secrets and held them close, releasing them only as she needed to, a habit as well-established and rigid as breastplate. She did not exactly keep secrets from the Inquisitor and the Council, but Josephine thought that she was not always quite as open as she could have been.

And she could hide _herself_ , as well. Although Leliana could be vibrant and engaging if she chose, the centre of attention and the life of a party, she was also very, very good at making herself invisible, at disappearing so profoundly that it was as if she had never been there, and accomplishing this so subtly that one never noticed what she was doing.

Open and guarded, speaking and silent, the centre of attention and the utter lack of presence, each pair two sides to a spinning coin, and no way to know how the coin would fall. Sometimes it was as if the spymaster herself was a secret hidden from the world.

But no, this was not fair. It was not that Leliana did not open herself at all to Josephine—she did. She was often warm and talkative when they were in private. She had told the Ambassador a great deal about her childhood, for example. But even in private there were limits. Some things she simply would not talk about, deflecting questions with a laugh or a joke or sometimes simply a plain, smiling refusal to speak on the subject. She did not become angry if questioned, and was unfailingly good-tempered about such things, but Josephine had quickly learned that it was useless to ask about certain subjects.

Well, and why should Leliana _not_ have some privacy? There were things Josephine would not choose to tell anyone, even a lover; small things, embarrassing things, not at all important, but—private. Her doll collection, for example—she knew that Leliana was aware of the collection, but not— Well. Surely she could afford Leliana the same right of privacy that she would prefer herself.

But these silences, these secrets, seemed to touch so much of Leliana's life, and more than just her life. Josephine might have a few personal secrets, she might collect and use secret information herself in her diplomatic duties, and she might restrain her inclinations toward vehement expression when working, but it was her nature to be open and passionate. When she was not working, she allowed her passion to show, she shared what was important to her. When she was not working, she was there, all of her, her happiness, her anger, her misery, her frustration, her determination, her foolishness, her love. But Leliana hid her passions, hid so much of herself.

She had been a Bard, but she said little of substance about that period of her life. Josephine, late one night in the comfort of darkness and Leliana's arms, had hesitatingly confided the reason why she herself had turned away from the life of a Bard, and Leliana had held her as she wept at the memories, and reassured her that she had made the right choice. Yet she spoke little of her own experiences. There was a woman in Leliana's past, a woman named Marjolaine, whom Josephine had actually met once or twice many years ago; but Leliana had refused to say much more than a few words about her, or what had happened between them, or what she felt about it. “She betrayed me, in the end,” she said once. “She used me and arranged to have me taken for a crime she had committed. And later, when I was travelling with the Hero of Fereldan, she sent assassins for me. I killed her.” And she would say no more about it.

As the Left Hand of the Divine, Leliana was a spymaster, and in truth, sometimes also a master of assassins. This too was something she would not talk about, other than once summing her work up by saying, “Sometimes Justinia needed things done that she could not do, unpleasant things; and I was the one who did them.” And when Josephine expressed sympathy, she shrugged and said, “Such things are necessary. It is of no consequence.” If she thought about these activities privately, if she had any misgivings about them, she did not share those thoughts with her lover. Josephine knew what Leliana did now, as the Inquisition's spymaster, but that was because they both served on the Inquisitor's council of advisors. She was certain she would not have known as much if that had not been the case.

Josephine thought about all the private kindness she saw in Leliana, the genuine passionate sweetness that emerged at times from behind her reserve, and could not understand quite how this fit together with the cold efficiency with which she carried out her duties. Perhaps the answer was simply that they did not fit together, and so Leliana held them apart. The spinning coin, again.

But it was not as simple as two separate sides to a coin. Leliana, she thought, was more like part of an exceptionally complex tapestry, with places where the fabric darkened and the picture was obscured, but also with threads of gold running through all, though stained almost into invisibility in places.

*           *           *

  
When they spent time together they rarely spoke of discussions at the War Table. Partly it was that both wanted time away from their duties. But War Table discussions often involved disagreements, and Josephine had come to realize that some of these were the source of some of those disturbing encounters with Leliana, especially if the Ambassador had tried to revisit the arguments privately.

It was probably a month or so after they became lovers that she first tried to continue a discussion—it was not really even an argument—that had started at the War Table. They had realized that there must be an Inquisition agent working for the Venatori, and investigated, and the traitor had indeed been found: one Abernale Harish, known as “Painter.” The question at hand was what to do with this man.

“I will make sure that he is executed,” said Leliana, “in a way that makes it clear exactly what he did. It will be equally obvious that the Inquisition's justice has been swift.”

“But more could be achieved by letting him live,” said Josephine quickly, “if we make it conditional on his providing information on the Venatori who employed him. We can let him know that his life is immediately forfeit if he tries to cheat us.”

In the end, because they knew so little about the Venatori at that time, the Inquisitor decided to follow Josephine's recommendation. Leliana acquiesced gracefully; it was certainly not the first time they had disagreed on tactics over such things. Disagreements among the Council members were common. Everyone dealt with them professionally, and did not take them personally.

That evening, sitting with Leliana before the fire as it burned down to embers, with the rest of the room disappearing into darkness and the spymaster's arm around her, Josephine brought up the subject again. “I am glad the Inquisitor decided to spare Harish,” she said. “I think that in the long run we will achieve more this way than we would through simply killing him. His death would be a lesson to our enemies, yes, but it would not show that the Inquisition can be compassionate as well as strong.”

She had not really thought out her reasons for discussing this with Leliana beyond a vague hope that such a discussion would help clarify strategic directions. Josephine spent a great deal of time thinking about how the Inquisition presented itself. In diplomacy it was important to understand how to display one’s power in a way that was both clear in its strength, so that others were not encouraged to believe they could take liberties, but also in a way that prevented if from becoming something to be feared. It was important that power be seen to support people, not suppress them. This approach to diplomacy aligned with the Inquisitor’s instincts, making her job easier, although of course every situation was different and held distinct ramifications.

But she had felt Leliana tense very slightly against her, and then the spymaster had smiled and put her fingers against Josephine's lips, silencing her. “Tonight I do not wish to talk about work,” she said simply, and kissed the Ambassador. “I do not wish to talk at all.” And then one thing led to another, and Josephine forgot all about the discussion, losing her train of thought entirely under Leliana's hands, Leliana's mouth, in the warm soft darkness. But when Josephine reached for her in turn, Leliana kissed her affectionately and left her, saying that she had work that must be done.

It seemed odd that Leliana at first did not want to think of work, and then could think of nothing but the importance of returning to her work.

At first it remained simply an oddness. It was some time before she noticed that these occasional interactions followed a pattern. Leliana required silence, required intimacy with strictly controlled limits, after policy discussions raised issues of compassion.

Particularly when _Josephine_ raised issues of compassion.

Josephine did not like how Leliana engaged her desire at such times, touching her with a skill that aroused her until she forgot everything that she had been saying. It left the Ambassador feeling as if a weapon had been deployed to distract her, as if a shield had been raised against her as if against an enemy, as if a thread had dropped from a pattern. It left her feeling empty.

But at the same time she _loved_ being touched by Leliana. It was not that she did not want Leliana to touch her, or even did not want her take her swiftly and silently; she found these encounters wildly exciting. It was just that she wanted... more. And how could she complain to Leliana that she sometimes felt uncomfortable after the spymaster made love to her, when she could not quite explain why, even to herself? No. It was impossible.

*           *           *

One of the most persistent and annoying problems that the Council had to deal with was that of the Inquisitor's more distant relatives, who seemed intent on causing problems at the drop of a hat. First there was the relative five times removed, who claimed to have the ear of his dear, dear cousin and attempted to leverage that supposed closeness to his advantage. Trev took Josephine's advice when dealing with him, offering future favours in return for more discretion.

Unfortunately that simply invited this relative, and others, to ask for favours. They seemed to believe that there was now no need for them to negotiate conflicts with others themselves; they expected the Inquisition to solve the problems for them, _and_ to their advantage, no matter what the truth of the matters under discussion actually was. Dealing with these issues sometimes consumed a good portion of the Inquisition's diplomatic resources, to the intense frustration of the Inquisitor. When one particularly ridiculous situation was described to her, something about cows and a ball, Trev simply put her head in her hands and moaned. “There must be a way to stop all this idiocy!”

At that point Leliana, rising on her toes and beginning to pace with a kind of horrid enthusiasm, suggested that perhaps the best solution was to assassinate all of the Inquisitor's relatives beyond three degrees of separation, and began to plan how this would be carried out. Josephine gave an appalled gasp and began to argue vehemently. “Leliana! You cannot be serious! This would be dreadfully unethical, and if word got out—” But then she caught sight of the spymaster's face, read something in its wonderfully attentive inscrutability, and realized that Leliana was teasing. “Ach! You shouldn't joke about such things!” she protested. “It's not always easy to tell whether you're serious.” Leliana laughed and laughed, and then so did Josephine and Cullen, and finally Trev did as well.

“Well, assassination might not be entirely realistic,” the Inquisitor said finally, wiping her eyes, “but I suppose we can hope that they all kill each other off in these ridiculous disagreements before we intervene; if they did there would be far fewer requests for our attention. I'm very sorry that this nonsense must take up so much of your time.”

“Not at all,” said Leliana with a smile. “In many ways it is a pleasant change to have something... frivolous... to deal with, given how little of our work fits that description.” And in this, Josephine thought, she was completely right.

*           *           *

Perhaps Leliana was so guarded and defensive about certain things because she so rarely seemed to have the opportunity to truly relax and joke as she had in that War Table discussion. Playfulness was a skill that required practice if it was not to wither away. Josephine knew that the spymaster's work weighed heavily on her; she could see that in the tiredness in Leliana's eyes. Perhaps taking her away from it, if only for a little while, would help. Perhaps they could go to Val Royeaux for a few days? Not to work, simply to shop—for shoes? Leliana loved shoes. Or they could enjoy the newest, most fashionably scandalous theatre production, and attend the parties that would surely be opened to them as important officials of the Inquisition. She wanted a little time—perhaps only three days, was this so much to ask?—to spend with her lover away from their cares. The Inquisition was well in hand, and it was unlikely that anything would happen during such a short period that could not be handled by others.

This _was_ far too much to ask, apparently. Her suggestion was met with a look of outraged astonishment and a curt refusal: the Inquisition could not afford to lose either of them for such a length of time to such frivolous purposes.

Well. Outright refusal was merely a starting point for negotiation, and Josephine was not entirely weaponless in this battle. She pointed out that both of them had highly competent assistants who could easily handle the day to day work of the Inquisition. She noted that there were times when the Inquisition simply waited for things which could not be hurried, and that taking a break during such a period was in fact quite a reasonable thing to do. She observed that people benefited from taking breaks from their work, returning with increased energy and enthusiasm, and that they worked more efficiently and happily afterward; this was why the Inquisition was careful to be sure that its people did in fact take a little time off regularly.

But for once, Josephine’s negotiating skills failed utterly. No compromise was reached. Leliana was unmovable; there would be no holiday. Duty forbade it.

Josephine was flummoxed by this failure, because the spymaster's refusal was so illogical given the facts—and they were facts—that the Ambassador presented. It was especially disappointing because Josephine had maintained particular hopes with regard to the parties; Leliana had a wickedly playful side that tended to emerge at social gatherings, one that had manifested unexpectedly and memorably during the Inquisition's attendance at the ball for the Empress Celene at the Winter Palace.

Initially Josephine had been very nervous about that ball, but the Inquisitor, despite her lack of familiarity with the Game and general contempt for it, at least understood when it was important to play it. Trev comported herself well before the Empress, fenced verbally with a range of nobles, won the admiration of the Court, and disappeared from time to time with Cassandra, Vivienne and Bull, investigating leads and dealing with assassins; things went so well that Josephine began to relax a little, and was able to pay more attention to her younger sister, also in attendance—though that was another set of tribulations, to be sure.

But then Leliana had found her and carried her away from Yvette, laughing, insisting on dancing a scandalous, highly improper new dance that was the current favourite of the players of the Game, and afterwards returning her to her sister's company with a look that promised future dances, if perhaps not the kind executed in company. And after the ball was over, after the Countess Florian had been dealt with and all the political decisions had been made, Leliana found Josephine again and pushed her into a side room with a door that could not be locked, and began kissing her. “Leliana! What are you thinking!” Josephine protested, afraid that the door would open. But Leliana had her pressed up against the ornate plastering on a wall, and Leliana’s mouth was on hers, swallowing her words, and Leliana had caught Josephine’s hands and pulled them to her breasts.

“I have wanted your touch all evening,” murmured the spymaster against the brocade collar on the Ambassador's uniform, and Josephine's sense of propriety scurried away altogether.

When they rejoined the others a few minutes later, having checked each other and repaired all signs of dishevelment, her heart was still pounding, and she had a flush on her cheeks that surely would appear to others to have been caused by the dancing; the fact that the dancing had ended long before was of course irrelevant to her... condition.

No, attending a ball with Leliana was not dull, even without assassins. Josephine wished with all her heart that she could have convinced the spymaster to take a few days—even one day!—to explore the distractions that Val Royeaux had to offer.

In truth, that playful side of Leliana, the part that was willing to relax and enjoy herself, was appearing less and less frequently, even when they were alone together. She finally convinced the spymaster to take an afternoon off on a warm day and picnic with her in the gardens. When Leliana had first recruited Josephine to the Inquisition, she would have thrown herself into the idea of a picnic with gusto, and made it into a special occasion for both of them. But now, for the whole time, she simply seemed slightly sad and distant and distracted. As an outlet for Leliana's playfulness, the picnic was not a success.

Well, Corypheus had threatened to end the world since those early days, and made it a creditable threat; perhaps it was no wonder Leliana found little time for frivolities. But Josephine still believed that it was these lighthearted activities that kept them all sane, and worried for her lover.

*           *           *

It was not usual for the War Table to have to deal with affairs of the heart, but sometimes strategic questions conflicted with the romantic inclinations of individuals; certainly Dorian's experience demonstrated that. The Inquisition diplomats had been carefully maneuvering around a clutch of Orlesian nobles, attempting to make connections and alliances that would provide benefits without unbalancing Orlesian politics. Lady Richelieu had a hand in this, perhaps too much of a hand. She was becoming arrogant, and now she was promoting a very specific marriage that, if made, would only increase her power and influence.

Unfortunately, the young woman whose marriage was being arranged was not happy about it, for she had given her heart to a young man whose prospects were not nearly so elevated as those of the noble who was the proposed bridegroom.

“We have received a letter from Lady Thibault,” said Josephine. “She has said that her daughter will comply with our wishes, but also that she very much does not want to. Lord desRosier is willing to marry her, but has indicated that he does not approve of how this was handled. I believe that both are not best pleased with Lady Richelieu's part in this.”

“Lord desRosier has also indicated that he does not wish to inconvenience Celeste,” said Leliana. “I have no doubt that he will allow her to take a lover; it is a political marriage, after all. It is merely the names that need be partnered in order to satisfy Orlesians. They are hardly strangers to the idea of courtly duty tempered by the existence of a paramour.”

Josephine looked at her. “You are too cynical, Leliana. The fact that it is _common_ does not make it _desirable_ ,” she said.

Trev was frowning. “I do _not_ like the idea of forcing anyone to marry against their will.” This was a topic that she held strong views on, as she had herself on multiple occasions received proposals of marriage, offers intended to further political interests. But the Inquisitor had made it abundantly clear that she would only follow her heart in such matters, and had in fact done so with Cassandra—although, infuriatingly, this did not stop the proposals.

“We will not be taken seriously if the nobles believe the Inquisition places the happiness of individuals over strategic gain,” said Leliana. “It will be seen as weakness.”

“Perhaps,” said the Inquisitor, staring at the markers on the War Table. “Or perhaps not. Have we alternatives?”

“The two youths could be marriage enough if other investments encouraged Lord desRosier to withdraw,” said Josephine. “He wishes to increase his status and power, and I doubt he cares how it is done.”

“Then look into that,” said Trev briskly. “I will not pursue a political marriage that primarily advantages a matchmaker rather than the participants, not when there are alternatives. There is no need to be unnecessarily unkind. Are we in agreement?”

Cullen and Josephine nodded immediately, and Josephine said, “Thank you, Inquisitor.”

Leliana was a little slower to respond. “As you wish,” she said expressionlessly, and bent over her notes. And that night Josephine did not see her at all.

*           *           *

Every time Josephine looked at the teapot blown from Serault glass, a warm glow filled her. Leliana's gift had been so perfect; she wished she could find something that would give the spymaster such happiness. But she could think of nothing; Leliana liked certain things very much—she had a surprising passion for shoes, although when working with the Inquisition there were few opportunities to wear the frivolous confections she favoured—but she did not _collect_ things.

But the work of the Inquisition cleared the roads of many dangers, and that meant there were more and more traders appearing in Skyhold, and one day... “What is it?” she said to the trader, staring at the ornate box.

“It's a dwarven puzzle box,” said the man. “A good one, too. It has several small hidden drawers in addition to the main one. Look, I'll show you.” He picked up the box, which was made from several kinds of metal arranged in geometric patterns and set with gems, and showed her how this could be pressed and that could be twisted, to make drawers open and disappear again.

Josephine wanted it, badly, but her Antivan instincts kicked in. “It doesn't look very _useful_ ,” she said dubiously. “Most of the drawers are too small to hold much.”

“But perfect for small pieces of jewelry!” exclaimed the trader. “Or to hide notes between a beautiful woman and her lover?” He gave her a sly glance.

She gave him back a look that told him she knew perfectly well what his game was, and settled happily down to the business of haggling. In the end she was satisfied, having paid a substantial amount but considerably less than she would have been willing to give for such a beautiful and intriguing piece.

Two nights later she and Leliana had spent a delightful evening together, first a private dinner with wine, and then more wine by the fire, interspersed with kisses, and both of them were relaxed and a little fuzzy with the drink, and she remembered the box. “I have a present for you!” she said.

“A present?” said Leliana, smiling. “What—oh!”

Josephine put the box in her hands and watched Leliana's smile grow even wider and full of delighted surprise. “It is a puzzle box! Let me see if I can... yes, if this is twisted...” And for quite some time Leliana's clever hands worked with the box, interrogating its secrets. Eventually she lifted her head and said with an expression that was soft and open as sunrise, “Josie, it is perfect.”

“It made me think of you,” said the Ambassador. “It is so intricate and beautiful.”

“With hidden compartments?” said Leliana with a quirk of her eyebrow, still smiling. “Thank you, Josie. I love it. You are a dear, dear woman. Come here and let me show you just how dear.”

And the rest of the evening was every bit as pleasant as Josephine hoped it would be; Leliana was as generous and as ardent as a new lover. For the rest of her life, Josephine would treasure the memory of that perfect night.

*           *           *

The puzzle box sat on Leliana's work table; the spymaster kept a few keepsakes in the smaller compartments, and personal letters in the larger one, and once or twice Josephine surprised her running fingers across the patterns in the polished metal contemplatively. As a gift, it had been even more successful than she had expected.

But after that night, Leliana herself seemed slightly more distant. This was unexpected, and a little disturbing. But there were so many things the spymaster had to concern herself with at that time, there were so many things _all_ of them had to concern themselves with, and none of them good, and so it was only to be expected—or so Josephine told herself.

But it _was_ a little strange.

*           *           *

 

And then Sebastian Vael sent a message to the Inquisition.

 _The worst of the mage rebellion is now past_ , said his missive. _However, the mage who started it all, who destroyed the Chantry in Kirkwall and murdered Grand Cleric Elthina and dozens of the innocent faithful, is still at large. The fanatic Anders must be brought to justice. Though he may no longer be in the city, it is still home to many of his known associates. I thus resolved to invade Kirkwall to locate Anders. But Starkhaven’s annexation of this notoriously troubled city has not proceeded as planned. The city’s resistance opposes me. They forget that I do this for the good of the city and all the Free Marches. As a staunch ally of the Inquisition, I entreat support for this endeavor, that Kirkwall may be brought under control before more innocents are harmed._

Sebastian was dismayingly single-minded in his determination to find Anders and bring him to account for his crimes. Both of the men had been associated with the Champion of Kirkwall for some years before the fall of that city; Sebastian took the mage's betrayal personally, and pursued him with the obsession and ferocity of a tainted mabari, a determination that swept away all in his path regardless of their complicity. Hawke and Varric had spoken to the Inquisitor about this when the Champion first arrived at Skyhold, and Trev had brought their concerns about the siege of the city to the Council. “Hawke had said that Anders left Kirkwall some time ago, but Sebastian does not seem to care about that. The Champion and Varric believe he's punishing a whole city for one man's crimes and is behaving as fanatically as Anders did,” said Trev at the time, “and I have to say that I see their point.”

Now, things not having gone as easily as his vanity had expected, Kirkwall not sharing his conviction of the rightness of his path, Sebastian wanted the Inquisition's support. Josephine was not in favour of giving it to him. “I fear the diplomatic ramifications of having our soldiers seen as part of a conquering army,” she said. “Let us tell the Prince that the Inquisition has no one to spare. After the destruction of Haven, who would blame us?”

Cullen did not approve of supporting Sebastian either; in fact, he suggested that because Sebastian was so specifically set on revenge, a revenge that would harm many innocents, the Inquisition might better support Guard-Captain Aveline Vallen to stand against him.

But Leliana thought that they should support Sebastian.

“We have a chance to end this to our advantage,” she said. “Aveline will back down in the face of our overwhelming force, ending this confrontation quickly. If we bolster Sebastian with Inquisition agents as his 'advisors,' we can keep him from doing more damage.”

There was considerable argument against this by both Cullen and Josephine. “It is wrong to allow him punish a city for the sins of someone who is not even there, even if doing so might prevent worse damage,” argued Josephine. “It is likely that many would be harmed by our involvement, people who have trusted and supported the Inquisition. Hawke is working with us to help solve the problem of the Grey Wardens, and Varric stands with us; to support Sebastian would be to strike them in the face. Can we afford to lose their support over this?”

“Addressing the issue of Anders does not require besieging a city; Sebastian goes too far,” said Trev eventually. “The Inquisition is not a cadet branch of Starkhaven, required to support him in every endeavour, particularly those we find distasteful. Furthermore, this is drawing his attention away from more serious matters. If we make it clear that we do not support this endeavour, I do not think his current obsession will prevent him from seeing that we still have a common and more urgent interest in defeating Corypheus. I believe that we should support Aveline, as Cullen suggests.” And that was the decision that the Council finally agreed on.

Leliana did not speak against it, but neither did she speak in favour of it. After giving her opinion on what should be done, seeing no support for her position, she remained silent, only finally nodding briefly in acquiescence when Trev asked them for their agreement on Cullen's suggestion. She had moved her chair so that her hood shadowed her face more deeply; it was impossible to read her expression. If she had an expression at all, Josephine thought to herself. Leliana was very good at hiding what she was thinking and feeling.

*           *           *

Leliana did not appear in Josephine's rooms that evening, though earlier she had quite clearly indicated that she would do so. The Ambassador, already unsettled by the disagreement at the War Table, was not sure what this indicated, but it disturbed her. When it was very late and there had still been no sign of her lover, she went to find the spymaster in her tower.

The runners and agents had all gone long since; Leliana was alone at her table, writing. She looked up as Josephine approached. “There are so many messages that must be sent,” she said. “Sometimes I wonder if we have enough birds.” She looked exhausted.

“Are you all right?” said Josephine tentatively. “You look very tired.”

Leliana frowned. “I am fine.” She put her quill down. “But I am glad you came. Earlier today... you felt very strongly about the question of Starkhaven's attack on Kirkwall.”

“Yes,” said Josephine uneasily, wondering why Leliana was bringing the subject up, “I did. I do. We would take great risks politically to support Sebastian, simply in terms of how we would be perceived, and I cannot see how helping him would be to our advantage.”

“But it is more than that, no?” said Leliana.

“Of course it is,” said Josephine. “It would also be a very great betrayal to friends who have supported us.”

Leliana stood restlessly, walked across to the railing, leaned on it for a moment, then stood up again and walked back.  
“I do not think you understand,” she said, “that such betrayals—this is what I do.”

“No,” protested Josephine.

“Yes,” said Leliana intensely. “We do not always have the luxury of thinking of friendship, of _mercy_ , when we make our decisions. Sometimes political strategy is more important. Someone must always think strategically, must think of the things that no one else wishes to, and that someone is me.”

“Mercy is not a luxury!” said Josephine hotly.

Leliana stretched her lips into a facsimile of a smile. “You see? That is why. To think of friendship, to wish to do the most merciful thing, is natural; but we _must_ consider all options.” She turned away, and said into the darkness of the atrium, “It cannot work, you know.”

“What cannot work?”

After a moment’s silence, Leliana turned back. There was nothing but blackness behind her, with just the faintest sheen of the metal cages hanging above; her face seemed very white against the darkness. It was very quiet. “I cannot be the person you think I am, the person you want me to be. I _cannot_.” She put her hands behind her back. Her voice had gotten louder. Startled, the birds shifted in their cages, and one made an interrogatory croaking sound.

“I am only expecting you to be the person you already are,” said Josephine, hurt and bewildered.

“ _No_ ,” said Leliana, emphatically, “I am _not_ what you think. I never have been. This—us—this thing we have between us—it _cannot_ work. The person I am would only break your heart. We must end this—now.”

The shock was so great that Josephine utterly lost her words, lost all the fluency her tongue normally carried, lost the self-possession she maintained through the most distressing negotiations. She could say nothing but, “Leliana... no. Please.”

“It is better this way,” said Leliana implacably, and turned back to her table, to sit and take up her quill and stare at her letters.

“Please,” said Josephine again, the word racked from her. _Please, do not do this_ , she meant. _Please, speak to me. Please, let me understand. Please_.

But Leliana only reached for a piece of paper, and would not look at her.

Josephine had no memory of passing from Leliana’s aerie to the security of her own bedroom. She found herself on the settee, shaking, her hands knotted in the blanket she had pulled round herself. Security? There was no place of safety to protect her from this. Her rooms were full of Leliana, memories so strong that she could almost touch them; but when she did they shattered into sharp fragments, each one piercing a little deeper, over and over again, until she felt that she would come apart under the blades of their edges.

 _She would only break my heart?_ she thought. _It is far too late to avoid that._

*           *           *

She was at her desk as usual in the morning, though she had not slept at all. She kept her head to her papers when dealing with the first few runners, so they could not see her face; she did not think that the care with which she had prepared herself this morning could hide her puffy face and red eyes.

This was confirmed when the Inquisitor entered the room, because she could not stare at her papers then. She looked up, and Trev stopped in her tracks. “Lady Ambassador? What’s wrong?”

“It is nothing,” she said, “I did not sleep well.”

“It is more than that,” said Trev, looking worried. Josephine supposed she must look truly dreadful.  
Well, they would have to know sooner or later; it was only right that she should tell the Inquisitor first. “I— Leliana and I are no longer lovers,” she said.

“I... see. I am so sorry.” Trev frowned, and after a pause said, “Josephine... I ask as a friend, not as the Inquisitor... was this your choice?”

Josephine found that she could not answer, and bent her head. She heard someone say something, and the Inquisitor’s curt reply sending them away. Then Trev was beside her, and there was a hand on her back. “You do not have to work today, there is nothing so urgent that it will not keep. Please, take the day for yourself, until you can... sort through this.”

Josephine looked up and said sharply, “I will not allow this to impact my work.” And then, more softly, “I prefer to work, in any case. It... keeps my mind busy.”

The Inquisitor nodded slowly. “As you wish. Though if you wished to... you could work from your rooms today, and see no one.”

“No,” said Josephine, “I will be fine. But I thank you for your kindness.”

*           *           *

There were no War Table meetings that day, thank the Maker. How she made it through those hours she never knew, but she did. On the two occasions that she needed to communicate with Leliana she did so through runners, with cool, polite messages, and received replies that were equally courteous and distant.

On the following day, the War Table meeting was unavoidable. Josephine mustered a brittle veneer of professionalism and behaved almost normally, she thought. Leliana seemed pale and remote and scraped like a knife-edge. Cullen was oblivious, but Trev watched both women closely, a slight frown on her face. She dealt with business more expeditiously than usual and dismissed them as quickly as possible.

*           *           *

Skyhold was a small community, rife with gossip, so word spread quickly. Few people spoke to her about it directly—why would they?—but still, most were amazingly kind, and those who were friends tried to find ways to make her feel better. Once he realized what had occurred, Cullen seemed genuinely distressed to see her unhappiness, and tried awkwardly to find words of comfort for her; at the War Table she caught him looking from her to Leliana more than once with a frown on his face.

Vivienne invited her to lunch and told tales of the Game in Val Royeaux, many of which were so scandalous that she had never heard them before, and so wildly outrageous that she was not entirely sure the mage was not making them up; though with Orlesians, one never knew what was possible. She barely gave Josephine time to speak during the meal, reciting story after amusing story; and afterwards the Ambassador, who had been thankful not to have to say much, thought that this was not by accident.

Scout Harding, whom she had asked once or twice to find flowers for a special occasion, brought tiny bright wildflowers in a small vase, and left them on the Ambassador's desk with only a quick smile and nod.

Sera, rough and awkward as always, drifted into her offices and said, “Sorry about the spymaster. It's the shits, right? But you're all right, Lady Ambassador, you're decent. You'll do,” and drifted out again, leaving Josephine feeling very slightly more cheerful. It was, indeed, the shits, though Josephine would never have allowed that particular phrase to pass her lips.

Not in public, at any rate.

Everyone knew what had happened, so it followed that they knew she was unhappy. She did not want to reveal how desolate she truly was, so she tried to avoid speaking about the matter, and while she could not exactly communicate happiness convincingly, she was able to assume a facade of reasonably good cheer for day to day interactions. Leliana appeared to be doing something similar, having largely withdrawn from sight, though because she was widely feared no one was likely to ask uncomfortable questions or make distressing comments in her presence.

Unfortunately the same was not true for Josephine, though none of those who asked or commented in such a way were people who were friends. In some circles in Orlais forming and breaking shallow relationships was almost a sport, with dramatically theatrical histrionics on the part of the participants providing entertainment for all. She did not want to be the source of such enjoyment and made it clear that she had nothing to say on the subject. With luck, if both she and Leliana kept their own counsel about the matter, in a week or two the gossips would have forgotten them and moved on to something more rewarding.

But she was not always able to hide just how badly she had been hurt.

On the day that they normally took tea together, Cassandra came a little earlier than usual, and found Josephine kneeling by the fire she was tending, shaking and in tears, blindsided by the thought of all the tea parties that would never again be the same because Leliana would not be there.

The Seeker said nothing. She simply lifted the Ambassador up, set her in a chair by the hearth, and handed her a clean handkerchief. She finished the tending of the fire, hung the kettle over it, chose a tea (mint), checked that the tea ball and pot were prepared, pushed a second chair close to Josephine’s, and sat in it. And then she took one of Josephine’s wet hands away from her face and held it, held it until the Ambassador’s sobbing eased and she took her hand away to blow her nose and wipe her face. And when she was done, and began to say, “I’m sorry—”

“Hush,” said Cassandra mildly, and reached out and took her hand again, releasing it only when the kettle boiled; she made the tea and handed Josephine her cup. She did not hold Josephine’s hand again, but the Ambassador noticed that after originally setting the chairs so close that their knees touched, she had not moved them further apart, and was absurdly comforted.

Over the next couple of weeks Cassandra came to take tea every day, which was unusual. Most of the time they spoke of casual things, but especially during that first week, if Josephine was unable to speak the Seeker held her hand silently until she was able. Josephine thought that she might be silent simply because she did not know what to say; but she was _there_. And that was infinitely comforting.

On the occasional days when Trev came with Cassandra and they found Josephine weeping, it was the Inquisitor that made the tea, after touching Josephine’s shoulder for a moment, leaving the Seeker to sit close and hold the Ambassador’s hand; and she was silent as well, handing the tea round when it was ready and sitting close on Josephine’s other side. Josephine was embarrassed by the number of times this happened, but neither seemed to mind, and they were two of the most restful people she could ever have asked for under such conditions. Perhaps that was why she wept so often in front of them, she thought; they did not make her feel that there was any reason to control her emotions for their sake, and they did not make her feel that she was expected to talk about what had happened or explain herself. She was enormously grateful to both of them, and profoundly thankful for their friendship, for there was nothing that could be said that had not already been said, and saying it over and over simply magnified her distress.

For the rest of her life, she would associate mint tea with the comfort of a friend’s hand holding hers.

*           *           *

Leliana’s reputation made many people afraid of her; Cassandra was not one of them. Cassandra thought that Leliana was an idiot, and was not afraid to say so. Her own romance with Trev had begun at more or less the same time as that of Josephine and Leliana, and was still utterly astonishing and precious to her. Her heart ached for Josephine's pain, and she could not understand how Leliana could turn aside from something that clearly made both herself and Josephine happy. She must say something.

Telling Leliana what she thought required her to make her way to the Rookery, as the spymaster did not appear to have emerged from it in several days. She went very early in the morning, before the day's business had truly begun, knowing that Leliana began her days early as well and would likely still be alone. She had intended to question the spymaster, but in the end it seemed more sensible to come immediately to the point. Why beat around the bush? “You are a fool, Leliana,” said Cassandra.

“Most people seem to think so,” said the spymaster, her voice clipped and bitter, shutting a compartment on her puzzle box with a decisive snap. The papers on her table were unusually well organized and precisely placed.

“Love... is a precious thing,” said the Seeker, earnestly. “It should not be cast away so easily.”

“You are a romantic,” said Leliana. “It was necessary.”

Cassandra stared at her, scowling. The woman really _was_ a fool. “Was it? I think not. And you are as much a romantic as I, even if you tell yourself that it is not so.”

“You know very well,” said Leliana in a voice as cold and brittle as cat ice, “that the life of the Left Hand has no space for romance, even if that of the Right Hand does.” And she picked up her quill and began to write. But the quill broke in her hand as she did so, spattering a line of ink across the paper, and she stared at it for a long moment, utterly still.

“Leliana—” said Cassandra.

“No,” said the spymaster, throwing the broken quill aside violently, and rose and walked away.

*           *           *

Leliana went to Caer Bronach soon after, saying that she must see to her agents there. Josephine did not believe in this excuse for a minute, for communications between Skyhold and the Crestwood fortress ran as smoothly and quickly as a nug sliding in butter, and she doubted that anyone else believed it either. There were no critical emergencies requiring the spymaster's attention, and if she had not needed to visit before, why would she now? But when Leliana raised the matter of going at the War Table no one made any comment or complaint, and so for ten days she was gone. In many ways this was an immense relief.

Leliana's absence gave her a chance to regain some equilibrium, without worrying about what they would say to each other in encounters outside the War Room, or how she would hide a reaction if they met unexpectedly in a hall before the eyes of the gossips. But it was still very difficult, and although she could cope with her work, much of the rest of the time she simply wanted to lock the door to her rooms and see no one at all. She probably would have done exactly that, gone to ground like an injured nug, if her friends had not intervened.

Each week a group of companions and advisors gathered to play Wicked Grace, but that first week Josephine stayed in her offices working late; surely this could provide an excuse for her absence. But Varric came to find her.

“I heard about you and the Nightingale... I’m sorry, Ruffles.”

She nodded. She still did not entirely trust her voice, particularly when people were kind.

“Have you forgotten what night it is? Come and play Wicked Grace with us.”

She shook her head. “I have too much work, Varric.”

“No, you don’t,” he said quietly. “Please come.”

She looked at him then; his face was open and kind, with not a hint of his usual mockery. “I... I cannot. Not tonight.”

He looked at her thoughtfully.

“Sometimes I think ‘Nightingale’ isn’t the right name; she is much more like a spider. No,” he shook his head as she frowned and opened her mouth, “I am not insulting her. I mean that she has set a web around her to serve the Inquisition, and catch flies. It’s a shitting big web, and it catches a lot, and that’s a good thing. But... it isn’t a good thing when a web catches the spider too. You know, I really don’t think any of this is about you, Ruffles.” She stared at him, bewildered. “Look,” he said, leaning on her desk, “come and try. If you can’t stand it you can always leave. But we’ll miss you if you don’t come.”

In the end, she went with him, and played. For once she did not win, not even one hand, all night. But her friends smiled at her, and said nothing to stir up wounds, and it did not matter.

When the game ended, Dorian announced that he was planning a trip to Val Royeaux, as the wares of the Skyhold traders were sadly lacking in the quality expected by any person of discernment, and he insisted that Josephine must accompany him. He wished her expert opinion on matters of fashion, because so few members of the Inquisition were capable of holding reliable ideas about it; she really _must_ accompany him, and no, Lady Ambassador, he would not accept a refusal.

Overwhelmed by the onslaught of words, Josephine, who found herself incapable of verbal fencing, thought that she had refused him clearly, albeit perhaps rather too brusquely. But on the following day he turned up in her office exactly as if she had agreed to the excursion, and somehow she found herself checking her calendar, and, yes, two days from now it would be possible.

She could not believe that she had agreed to go shopping in Val Royeaux with Dorian, of all people.

But it was certainly an... adventure. Dorian had somehow acquired a bolt of creamy royal sea silk, so the first visit was to a tailor, where a great deal of time was spent giving very precise instructions and taking measurements. After that he whirled her from shop to shop, asking for her advice and then ignoring it, trying this, testing that, arguing with the proprietors, and in each place leaving behind such a disarray of goods that had been tried and found lacking that it looked like someone had lobbed a grenade into a wardrobe. He looked for the most extravagant and outrageously fashionable clothing, but he invariably also chose the finest materials, and she had to admit that the clothes and the boots and the accessories that he finally selected all showed exceedingly well on him.

“But this has all been for me,” he said finally, when they stopped for an expensive luncheon that presented them each with six different appetizers in portions that were so elegantly presented that the parts of them that were edible were almost impossible to identify. “Now we must do something for _you_. I have the very thing in mind.” And against her protests, he insisted that they visit a dressmaker's shop. Dorian made her try a range of outfits, none of which were in styles that she would normally have considered, and when in her exhausted confusion she could not choose any in particular, firmly made the decision for her. There was a beautifully patterned silk brocade, available in a deep indigo, and a shimmering orange silk that was in some lights pale and in others dark. The fabrics were bold but complemented each other astonishingly well, and he gave the tailor detailed instructions as to exactly how the finished piece would incorporate both of them. “This will set off your eyes beautifully,” he said. “It is elegant, professional, and entirely intimidating. The nobles you negotiate with will be overcome by your beauty, and you will be able to bend them to your will almost as easily as I could,” and Josephine had to laugh at him.

“Perhaps they will simply be overcome by the sheer outrageousness of the outfit, not who is in it,” she said.

“No, no, well-made clothing is simply a frame that presents the person to advantage,” he said. “But you do need to learn to _preen_ more.” And then he proceeded to give her an exaggerated lesson on how to do so, until she was helpless with laughter.

Josephine was exhausted when they finally returned to Skyhold, but also strangely comforted. The lowering black wolf of pain and sadness that had dogged her steps for days had been chased away for at least a little time, allowing her to breathe. She had tried so hard to get Leliana to spend a day in just this way, and all to no avail, that she had thought it would be impossible to enjoy herself with anyone else; but Dorian's insistence, his enthusiasm, his wit, and his great kindness had carried her beyond the memories that fenced her in, and given her new ones.

*           *           *

When Leliana returned, paler and thinner than when she left, the War Table meetings were still difficult, but as long as she focused on professionalism and the subject at hand, Josephine could deal with them, and even converse directly with the spymaster. She found her emotions hair triggered, though; not just sadness, but anger, which was in some ways harder to control and roused itself at unexpected moments.

Leliana’s agents had uncovered a spy, a merchant who had sworn allegiance to the Inquisition but was working a double game, providing information to the Venatori as well as cover for their agents. He had also been working with slavers; his network provided him with a way to find and move men and elves as well as goods; and his specialty was in providing children for those with particular proclivities. The spymaster brought the matter to the War Table, proposing to have the man killed in a way that simultaneously exposed his dealings, particularly with regard to the children, and demonstrated the implacable reach of the Inquisition.

But Josephine, who detested slavers at the best of times and was feeling unusually disinclined to forgive anyone about anything at all, found herself reacting with a level of internal fury that made her vision blacken around the edges. She had an alternative suggestion for dealing with the merchant. She recommended placing certain information, very carefully, in places where it would be taken up by certain hands, and then certain further arrangements could be made with regard to the fleet and network the merchant controlled. The man would be left alive, but as a result of the scandal he would suffer absolute social and financial ruin. And as several people would likely wish to take vengeance on him, he would be looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life, however long that turned out to be. A benefit of this approach, she explained, was that it would not only punish the man, but place his network and his ships under the control of the Inquisition rather than destroying them, and that could potentially provide both intelligence and coin for the Inquisition's coffers.

“It is a good plan,” said Leliana after Josephine had outlined her recommendation in precise detail. “It will work. And he will certainly be punished by it; he is a grasping man who values status and money over all, and I imagine he would far prefer death to this. Sometimes I think that in your own way your are every bit as ruthless as I am.”

Josephine did not smile, only looked at her with eyes still yellowed and hazed by rage. “Oh, I certainly can be,” she said. “Some transgressions are unforgivable.”

*           *           *

The new outfit, delivered along with Dorian’s order by a trader a week after the visit to Val Royeaux, proved to be a great success. Although extravagant in its materials, it was understated enough in its design to be appropriate for an Ambassador in her day to day activities, so it was very practical. It caught the eye and announced that Josephine was an elegant and perceptive woman, perhaps a little daring. It attracted attention and many favourable remarks. Even Cullen, who normally did not notice what people wore, commented on its beauty.

Leliana, when she first saw it at a War Table meeting, appeared transfixed, and said, “Is that new? I do not recall seeing it before.”

“Yes,” said Josephine coolly. “I ordered it when on a recent shopping trip to Val Royeaux. I thought it was time for something new.”

“It is very beautiful,” said Leliana in a subdued voice, and lapsed into silence. But Josephine felt the spymaster's eyes on her more than once during that meeting.

*           *           *

Solas preferred to work on the mural at night. It was quieter then, and it was rare for anyone to use the atrium as a shortcut to a destination. Sometimes, when the Inquisitor was in residence and there was a great deal going on, the space felt like an annoyingly busy crossroads. Much better to work late, in silence, with only the rustle of wings settling far above him, and occasionally a glimpse of a star.

Lately candles had burned much later into the night on the highest level, where Leliana worked, but their light was barely noticeable, and the spymaster herself rarely made any noise. Solas had overheard someone say that the spymaster and the Ambassador were no longer lovers, and he supposed somewhat vaguely that this might explain why Leliana worked so late into the night, but he did not really think about it; his studies consumed him, and left little time for idle speculation.

But on this night, as he was searching through old books for a particular reference, there was a sudden clatter and crash from above, and he looked up to see an object hurtling down towards him. His reaction was instantaneous; he seized his staff from where it lay on the table and flung it up, a blaze of light from the stone at the top catching the falling object and stopping it. It hung for a moment a short distance above his head, and then he reached up, and the light flared and faded, and he brought his hands down with the object cradled between them.

It was a dwarven puzzle box.

He looked up. There was a light above. He would have expected someone who had knocked something over the edge by accident to be bending over the railing, looking after it, but there was no sign of anyone. This was a little worrying. Had someone fallen and injured themselves? He sighed for his lost serenity, supposing that he had better go and see.

There was not a great deal of light at the top of the stairs when he emerged onto the upper level, but it was enough to see the spymaster’s table. It was uncharacteristically clear of its usual clutter, but a chair had been knocked over, and papers and pens and books lay strewn haphazardly across the floor between the table and the railing above the atrium, and a glass inkwell had been smashed near the edge and had left fine trails of black across the wooden planks.

He saw all that before he saw Leliana, for she was partly in shadow. She was standing close to a wall, not so far from the table, unmoving, facing away from him.

“Spymaster?” he said.

She turned, jerkily, and as she did her face came into the light; it was like stone. “I am sorry to have disturbed you, Solas,” she said, and her voice was like stone speaking. “I am afraid I knocked things over.”

He stepped forward, and saw her eyes come to rest on what he held in his hands. Her face changed, abruptly. “This fell,” he said. “I was able to catch it, and it has not been harmed.” He set it on her table. “It is a beautiful thing, made by clever hands—I am glad I was able to save it from damage.”

After a moment she stretched out a hand, with an odd catch in the motion, and touched it. “Thank you,” she said. “I value it very much, and I thought it was broken. I thought—” She stopped. “Thank you.”

He nodded to her, and returned to his studies, and heard only silence from above.

*           *           *

Trev’s decision to support Cullen's solution to Starkhaven’s siege of Kirkwall proved to have been a good one. _With our help_ , said Cullen’s report, _Guard-Captain Aveline took care of Sebastian’s forces. Leliana’s spies say he has grown deeply impatient and is making plans to retreat_.

At the same time, Sebastian showed no signs of petulantly retreating from his overall support of the Inquisition; his obsession evidently did not prevent him from seeing the greater danger Corypheus posed. Trev was happy with the outcome, and said so. Leliana simply nodded and grew even more silent.

*           *           *

The Inquisition needed allies, as many as possible, so a great deal of time at the War Table was spent planning how to acquire them. Orlesian mercenaries could provide a good number of troops, if they could be acquired, and many of the Orlesian squads had excellent reputations, if not quite to the standard of the Bull’s Chargers. But if the nobles who currently had their contracts did not support the Inquisition, they were not available.

Leliana’s proposal for acquiring them was direct and brutal: if the nobles refused to support the Inquisition, then remove the nobles by poisoning them, which would have the effect of releasing the mercenaries from their contracts and also increasing the gratitude of those Orlesians who did support it. The mercenary bands could then be recruited by the Chargers, who would be able to plausibly describe the benefits of working for the Inquisition.

While such actions were considered by players of the Game to lack a certain finesse that made more subtle forms of violence preferable when it came to building reputations, they were an accepted part of Orlesian politics. But other less murderous proposals for recruiting the mercenaries had also been suggested. Why Trev chose to follow Leliana’s recommendation was unclear, given her normal inclination to avoid the use of deadly force when alternatives were available; perhaps it was because she had followed Josephine’s advice so often recently that she was uncomfortable with her demonstrated bias, perhaps it was because Cullen had stressed the urgency of acquiring more troops as quickly as possible, perhaps it was because she was tired and not thinking clearly. At any rate, she approved the actions the spymaster recommended.

The results were not entirely successful. The Orlesian nobles who already supported the Inquisition were certainly pleased by having rivals removed, and showed it through their contributions of gold, but not all the mercenaries chose to join the Inquisition; uncomfortably accurate rumours had spread as to how they had come to be released from their contracts. Some not only refused to join the Inquisition but had actually attacked when the Chargers approached them. None of the Inquisition’s people were killed, but there were injuries that would reduce their effectiveness for some time.

The Inquisitor was not generally one to blame her Council when things did not go as planned, but this time she was clearly unhappy with the results. In a War Table meeting she asked Leliana why there was insufficient intelligence to predict which mercenary bands would respond badly to having the nobles who employed them removed. “We cannot afford to take actions that will be wasteful of our resources,” she said firmly.

“It was an appropriate action,” argued Leliana. “We have acquired new troops, for a net gain. This was not wasteful.” And she began to itemize the benefits of what was accomplished.

“You miss my point,” interrupted Trev. “I am as much to blame as you in this, but in choosing the most brutal solution to the problem we did not gain as much as we could have. And now we have made enemies among the mercenaries, which was unnecessary. This could harm us in the long term, and it is a distraction from more important things. Do you not see that? We cannot afford to make such a mistake again.”

And Leliana was silent.

*           *           *

Josephine put away the glass teapot. She did not destroy it, though there had been more than one moment when she had come close to throwing it against the nearest wall, in lieu of Leliana, and was only restrained by her love of its beauty, which stood independent of the spymaster and what she had done. But even if she did not want to lose it, she could not bear to see it, and the light it held, and think of all the light that had drained from her life, leaving only bitter dregs. There had been such kindness in the gift of that teapot, such sweetness, and it had shown such understanding; where had it all gone?

And so she packed the pot carefully in straw in the wooden box in which it had come to her, and put it under her bed, out of sight if not quite out of mind.

Josephine was quite certain that Leliana was suffering too; she knew her far too well not to see that. Although there were moments when her anger swelled and she thought she hated the spymaster, or wished she could strike out at her, still she could not stop loving her, and the thought of Leliana’s pain increased her own unhappiness. She wondered if people were as kind to Leliana as they were to her; somehow she thought it unlikely. For one thing, she thought—and it was a thought that made her grieve even more—Leliana would never allow it.

*           *           *

In fact, a few people had approached Leliana sympathetically and been rebuffed. The Inquisitor was not one of them; she thought that Josephine had been badly treated. Cassandra had also told her of Leliana’s reaction when the Seeker tried to speak to her, and this did not incline her to change her opinion.

But she had also seen Leliana’s face once when the spymaster did not know that she was being observed and was not being careful to guard her expression. She had seen how pale Leliana had grown, and how thin, even within such a short span of time; the woman could not be eating properly. Furthermore, she had retreated completely to the rookery and isolated herself with her work. As far as Trev could tell, apart from the War Table meetings and sometimes Cassandra, the only ones who saw the spymaster were her agents and her ravens.

Whatever Leliana’s reasons for breaking off the relationship, Trev was quite certain that doing so did not make her happy.

Cassandra, who had told Trev that she was worried by what she saw happening to the spymaster, continued to visit her despite being regularly rebuffed. “She has gone all wrong,” the Seeker told Trev privately one night when they lay curled together. “She is not the person she once was, and it is breaking her.” But Cassandra did not know what to do about it, and neither did Trev.

The Inquisitor had learned a lesson when she had attempted to bring Josephine and Leliana together, and although no harm had been done, and perhaps even some good, she realized that she been very lucky not to have caused great damage. She would never try to manipulate relationships again.

But she did have opinions—strong opinions—and did not see any reason why she should not express them.

So one morning when she took a set of messages to Leliana for the ravens to carry, she said quietly, “This breakup between you and Josephine—”

Leliana gave her a lethally forbidding look, and said, “With respect, Inquisitor, that is none of your business.”

“It is my business if it affects the Inquisition,” said Trev, who was one of the very few people that Leliana could not cow with a stare.

“Josephine is very professional,” said Leliana, “and she has not allowed this to affect her work.”

“I am not speaking about Josephine,” said Trev pointedly. “I am speaking about you. You are doing your duty, but you are not always thinking clearly; this was made clear in the recruitment of the Orlesian mercenaries. You are out of balance.”

Leliana, clearly taken aback, opened her mouth, shut it, and then opened it again.

“The Inquisition is the sum of its parts,” said Trev. “You are a valuable member, and not just as the Left Hand and our spymaster. That is not the only thing we need from you.”

“I do the work that Justinia set for me,” said Leliana, scowling ferociously at her. “It is work that must be done, and it is work I am suited for.”

But Trev was accustomed to Cassandra’s frowns, and was not at all intimidated. “Are you?” she said. “I am not certain that the Divine would have entirely agreed with that. I am speaking of your work as spymaster, not your personal relationships. In that area you are, to my mind, a fool. I also think that your personal relationships and your work are not so separate as you think they are.”

Leliana stood abruptly, each hand moving fractionally toward the opposing gauntlet, a movement so expressive of violent temper that normally she would never have permitted herself to make it, and her voice did not try to hide her anger. “You do not know what you are talking about.”

“Perhaps not,” said Trev. “But in this matter I do not think your understanding is much better than mine. I recommend that you consider that.”

*           *           *

Leliana came to the War Table meeting on the next day looking as if she had not slept, hollow-eyed and with an uncharacteristic clumsiness in her movements. The Inquisitor looked at her critically and did not say anything. But after the meeting Trev wheedled a basket of fresh bread and cheese from the cook and carried it to the spymaster, together with some apples from their stores, and stayed to make sure she ate at least some of it. After that she arranged with a runner to deliver food to the spymaster each day, and make a personal report back as to whether it was consumed; and if it was not, Trev would take matters into her own hands, visit the tower, and bully Leliana until she ate.

*           *           *

There was so much to do diplomatically, especially because the Inquisitor preferred negotiations to the use of force, that Josephine needed to travel a great deal. She had always found these excursions exhilarating but exhausting. She loved the challenge of thinking quickly on her feet, of seeing larger patterns in both the obvious and hidden aspects of the give and take of working with others, and bending those patterns to the Inquisition's benefit. But it left her tired at the best of times. And now, under a great deal of emotional pressure, she felt utterly drained, to the point where she sometimes wondered whether she was capable of working to her normal capacity. Josephine thought that Leliana was not the only one who was missing things that she should have seen. But there was no choice; her personal life might be in tatters, but still the Inquisition needed her.

And then came the operation that involved the dwarves.

It had all seemed so straightforward to Josephine. The message had been found near a destroyed Venatori camp in the north:

_If this magister shit really brought the blight and the darkspawn, we’re no friend of that. Follow these instructions, and you’ll catch your enemy sleeping. Tell your soldiers not to leave the main tunnel. That’s your only warning._

Precisely detailed instructions were given for a route through the Deep Roads, down to specifying the exact number of soldiers for their party.

Leliana said, “They hold their secrets dear. Do as they say. No more, no less.” But this was an opportunity. Josephine recommended that the Inquisition send ambassadors with the party, in the hope of making political connections, and the Inquisitor agreed with her.

This turned out to be a mistake, because the ambassadors actively went looking for the dwarves. “My apologies, Inquisitor,” said Josephine at the following War Table meeting. “The instant the ambassadors stepped from the path, the tunnel was collapsed. Our people made it out, but just barely.” The letter left at the entrance for them to find had made it very clear: _You had the route. You want trade, show you can follow rules. Next time, you listen. If next time comes_.

The Inquisitor said, “Never mind, now we know exactly how their minds work.” Leliana said nothing, but it was still a bitter lesson to the Ambassador that in this case the spymaster’s advice had been right and her own so wrong. Afterwards Josephine reviewed the whole thing in her mind, over and over. How had she made such an error? She _knew_ that dwarves were obsessively protective of their territory, and that to challenge this was risky. How had she made such a fundamental mistake? It was a point of professional, and yes, personal pride, that she had a comprehensive grasp of other races and their cultural and political requirements. Yet she had failed to see something so simple and obvious. Perhaps the fact that it was Leliana who recommended following instructions exactly had influenced her to suggest a competing approach? If this was the case her behaviour had been very foolish and immature indeed. If she was so incompetent perhaps she should not occupy the position she did.

She dismissed this thought almost immediately, recognizing that her self-confidence was currently not at its best. There _was_ no one else with her experience; she was in fact an excellent and effective diplomat, and knew it. She had made a mistake; she was not paying close enough attention, and letting her personal problems distract her. That could be rectified.

But it was still upsetting. Despite the official secrecy around War Table planning—it would not do to let their intentions be known by Corypheus—she knew that in the end very little was missed by the gossips of Skyhold, and the tale of her error would spread. It was... embarrassing.

*           *           *

Shortly after that Bull came to tea. She kept an enormous mug for him, and was always charmed when it disappeared into his even more enormous fist. He liked teas with complex flavours, and said that her blends were the most interesting in all of Skyhold. She liked hearing his stories of far lands, places she would probably never have an opportunity to visit. That day he told funny stories that actually had her laughing, a gift she cherished. When he rose to go, unexpectedly, he stopped and looked at her sidelong.

“About you and the spymaster,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

She swallowed and managed to say something; he listened, watching her, and then grunted, an enigmatic sound that seemed half angry and half approving. “You’re a fixer,” he said. “You fix things between people who have different interests, between competing merchants, between countries. You’re good at it. But you can’t fix everything. You can’t fix what’s wrong with other people, just yourself. And just because you can’t see how to fix everything—” He grunted again. “Be kinder to yourself.” And then he nodded and was gone.

*           *           *

Over time, life became a little more bearable. One could not live with constant pain; eventually the mind finds a way to adjust, to buffer itself against wounds. Josephine supposed that someday she might even cease to hurt, except with a bone-deep memory of sorrow.

It would have been easier if she had not seen Leliana so often at the War Table meetings. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that it would have been easier if she could have seen that Leliana was also adapting to this new state of affairs and recovering herself.

But she was not. She had become terse and reticent nearly to the point of being unresponsive. For someone who knew her as well as Josephine did, who knew that the spymaster was capable of great expressivity when she was relaxed and secure, it seemed very strange and very sad.

To a degree, Leliana had been solitary for a long time, constrained by her profession, but she had always had friendships with a few people, people she spent time with and at least partially opened herself to. But now Trev had remarked that the spymaster might as well have been a spirit, she was seen so rarely. Josephine thought that Trev and Cassandra were likely the only friends who even tried to talk to Leliana now, and she rather thought, reading between the lines of a few comments they made, that the spymaster had rebuffed their efforts.

Josephine was aware that Leliana watched her, just as she watched Leliana, both of them pretending that they were not doing so. On days when Josephine found it hard to keep up her facade of professional cheer, Leliana was even stiffer and quieter.

She was not sure what to make of this. She could not help hoping that it showed that Leliana still cared for her, because it might mean that there was still a chance for them.

A chance. If there was a chance, would she take it? She thought about that carefully. Yes... perhaps... because she still loved Leliana deeply, despite all... but only under certain conditions. Only after she was assured that something had changed that would make a happy outcome more likely. She did not think she could go through this again. And the wariness, the caution she felt at the idea, the belly-sickness of fear it raised—it would take time and work to overcome it. And even if it was possible to do so, she knew that she would never be able to come to Leliana with the same open-hearted spring-green trust that she had first brought to their love. That had been destroyed, and she was not at all sure that something could be built from the ruins. But given a chance, she knew she would try.

And if a reconciliation did not happen, could not happen—well, it would be a long time, she thought, before the hurting would stop. But she could still do her work, and do it well. And eventually, despite all the pain, she knew that she would find an accommodation with her sorrow, and her life would go on.

She was not so sure about Leliana.

*           *           *

“She will not weep,” said Cole from a shadowed corner of her office. “She is drawn down in the dark, they will not allow her light. She is stretched, stone-bound, suffering, sufficient. They have been hurting her for weeks, but she will not break, she is silence, she is stone. She will never break. This pain is not like that, and it is. There are knots in it. There is not enough honey.”

Josephine put her head in her hands and closed her eyes. When she looked again, a little later, he was gone.

*           *           *

Josephine did not see Blackwall often, as he tended to stay in the lower part of the keep and almost never ventured into her offices. He seemed somewhat shy, but what she did see told her that he was a kind man. Certainly the Inquisitor and her companions—apart from Vivienne—seemed to regard him highly, and the few interactions she had with him were pleasant enough.

He did not directly address her breakup with Leliana, but he came to her office a few weeks later with a small wooden stand for her quills, decorated with a carefully carved griffon with a faceted crystal eye. “Thought this might be of use,” he said gruffly. “If you keep it near a candle the crystal will catch the light and cast it everywhere. Can’t ever have too much of that.” He turned, nodded at her thanks, and was gone.

It was a thoughtful gesture, and she thought that he offered it as a kind of comfort to her at a difficult time. And it was a comfort. It was a little inappropriate, of course, given their relative rank. _Oh Maker_ , she thought, _could he be showing an interest in me?_ She hoped not. Apart from their differences in station, she could not think of anyone but Leliana, even now.

But it was a kind thing to do.

*           *           *

The planned attack on the Grey Wardens at Adamant Fortress was a major action that moved a good part of the Inquisition’s forces into the Western Approach. Cullen, as general, led overall; once the fortress was breached the Inquisitor would take a small band in, with the goal of quickly reaching Warden Commander Clarel. Most of the Companions would be with the expedition, some with Trev, the rest under Cullen's command. In the War Table meeting before they left, the Inquisitor said, “Someone must be in charge here while we are all away. Josephine will be the administrative head until Cullen and I return, and Leliana will support her.”

Josephine nodded. Trev had spoken to her privately to warn her of this decision, and to let her know that she had Leliana’s agreement to it. In practice there was not a great deal of difference between this and what she already did with her small army of assistants; but it gave her more authority as she did it.

The troops rode away, leaving behind a fortress that seemed silent and echoing. The cold empty spaces seemed newly large and unfamiliar to those who remained, with footsteps echoing uncomfortably. There would be at least a month of such quiet until their forces returned, but they had taken scouts and agents and ravens with them, and would send regular reports on their progress.

Things progressed well; ravens arrived every third day as scheduled, and Leliana sent copies of the reports they carried to Josephine by runner. There was no need for meetings, and they might have lived in different cities for all they saw of each other.

Finally a raven’s message reported that they were close to Adamant, and the attack would happen on the next day. It also warned that it might be one or more days before they would send another message. So then there was nothing to do but wait.

No word came on the day of the attack. This was somewhat worrying, but they would not send a message until the battle was over, and they would not send a bird to fly in late afternoon or evening when darkness would close in before the raven could reach its destination, for that meant an increased risk of the message not getting through. And of course the battle might go on for more than one day.

She did not sleep well that night.

The next morning she found herself trying to calculate how long it would take a bird to arrive, realized that she had no idea of the speed with which ravens flew, and gave up. Leliana would send a runner when word came.

She did not send a runner; she came herself. “We have word,” she said, holding up the slip of paper in her hands, “Adamant is taken. The Inquisitor is well.”

“Thank the Maker!” said Josephine, sinking back into her chair. But Leliana was frowning.

“This message is... shorter than I would have expected,” she said. “I think there is something that they have not put into it.”

Josephine looked at her in alarm. “If any of our friends had died, or been badly hurt... surely they would have said?”

“I believe so,” said Leliana. “But still... something is wrong.”

Josephine looked at her. She seemed... worn, and thin, and very tired. “Well, we can do nothing but wait until they send more information or they return,” she said practically. “Will you take tea with me, Leliana?”

The spymaster looked startled. “I—”

“The fact that we are no longer lovers does not mean that we cannot be civil to each other,” said Josephine. “And you do not look like you have had anything to eat or drink today. Am I right?” This was something that she had occasionally needed to bully Leliana about in the past.

Leliana gave a smile that did not reach her eyes. “Of course you are. Thank you, I will have tea.”

She did not prepare the spiced tea that Leliana liked best; she could not bring herself to do something that seemed both so right, and so wrong. She made a strong black tea with milk and sugar instead, and found some biscuits left from a batch that the cook had brought yesterday; with jam and a little hard cheese, it almost made a meal, and she realized how hungry she had been herself.

They made desultory conversation, as near strangers would, and when the tea was finished Leliana thanked her and left. Josephine felt obscurely depressed. She supposed that this marked a new step in the complicated dance of their relationship, one where they could bear to be together but still could not truly be friends. At least the raw edges seemed to be wearing off, and she found that she was no longer angry with Leliana.

Although Leliana had seemed somehow precariously stretched, a thread holding a weight too great for it; perhaps she still felt those edges.

*           *           *

When the Inquisition’s forces did return some days later, Leliana’s foreboding was borne out; there was a great deal that had not been in the messages sent after Adamant was taken. Decisions had to be made, and allies contacted, and letters written; Josephine was glad to hand responsibility back to the Inquisitor and become again only one of the council of advisors.

At the War Table, to bring them up to date until the full reports could be written, the Inquisitor and Cullen sketched the outline of everything that had happened: the use of blood magic by the Grey Wardens, the dragon, Clarel’s victory over Erimond and then her death, the fall into the Fade rift, and all the things that had happened to them in the Fade while Cullen and the troops fought the demon army: the recovered memories, the sacrifice of Stroud, the escape from the Nightmare through the rift that led back to Adamant, and the capitulation of the Wardens.

When Trev told them that the spirit of Justinia—or something like it—had been in the Fade, and what she had done, Leliana went as white and immobile as sun-bleached stone. But she said nothing.

*           *           *

It was some days later, when the Inquisitor spoke to the spymaster in the Rookery, that Leliana asked for more information, seemingly as an afterthought. But Trev, knowing her trap-like mind, knew perfectly well that it was not.

“What was she like?” the spymaster asked. “Divine Justinia, or her soul, or the spirit that took her form. I read your report. I know it isn’t clear, but...”

“She seemed... calm,” said Trev. “Serene, even. And she guided us the whole way through.”

“That does sound like her,” said Leliana.

Trev hesitated. “She did ask me to tell you something, though. She said, ‘I’m sorry. I failed you, too.’”

“Oh,” said Leliana, sounding as if she had been struck; and then she stood, dismissed the subject, thanking the Inquisitor, and walked away.

*           *           *

When the Inquisitor, then only the Herald of Andraste, had first come to Haven, Leliana had been dealing with a traitor—an agent named Butler, who had murdered a fellow agent and was in a position to betray others; it was only luck that he had not yet done so. She was particularly bitter and angry because Butler had been a friend. The spymaster had intended to have Butler killed, but Trev had intervened, arguing that to do so would betray the ideals of the Inquisition, and in the end Leliana had reluctantly acquiesced; she agreed to deal with the man in some other way. Butler, protesting his innocence to the end, had been exiled to the Free Marches, where Leliana had spread word of his betrayal of a comrade. This had resulted in his becoming a pariah; he was unable to find a noble, or indeed, anyone of good character, to employ him. In the end he joined a mercenary band known for its brutality, cruelty and lack of honour, and died in a skirmish over land boundaries.

And now word had come from Caer Bronach: another traitor among the Inquisition agents had been uncovered. They had been interrogated, and among the things learned was that Butler had in fact been innocent of the charges against him; this agent had set him up.

Leliana presented the findings at the War Table without commenting on them. Trev looked at her, and said only, “I’m sorry, Leliana.” Neither of the others said anything; the spymaster's expression did not invite comment.

*           *           *

Trev knew that Leliana had not finished asking about the spirit of Justinia. In some ways she dreaded the idea of more questions, for she suspected she would not have the answers the spymaster wanted. But she also thought that Leliana had been badly shaken by what she had already been told. If this was a breach in the wall of her certainty, the rigid absolutism that had driven her for all these months and caused her to leave Josephine... well. That might be a very good thing.

So the Inquisitor was not surprised when Leliana looked up from her writing at Trev’s approach, and said, “Inquisitor. I’m—I’ve been thinking. You remember everything now, yes? The explosion at Haven? The Fade? Escaping the Breach? In your report... you said Justinia was with you. But... only you emerged in the end. Why? Why were you the only survivor?”

Trev swallowed. She was herself still coming to terms with some of the things she had learned in the Fade. “She knew it was either her... or me. And... she wanted me to live.” She looked beyond Leliana, and saw Cassandra standing in shadows; the Seeker had been approaching the spymaster’s table from the other direction, but had stopped near the altar when Leliana spoke.

“Of course,” said Leliana tiredly. Then, with more force, “Of course she did. That’s just like her.” She was blinking rapidly. “Her message to me... ‘I failed you too.’ I'm not sure I understand what that means. Did she say anything else? Anything at all?” There was a barely noticeable tremor in her voice. “Please, if you remember....”

“I'm sorry, Leliana. That was it.” Trev hesitated, and then caught Cassandra's eye and walked slowly away.

The spymaster stood abruptly; her voice was cooler and more controlled now, and bitter. “There are no answers in the Fade. Only illusions. A warped mirror.” She walked over to her altar, not looking at Cassandra, who was not sure if the spymaster was speaking to her, or Trev, or herself. “Justinia has _never_ failed me. I was her Left Hand—now she’s dead. _I_ failed _her_.”

“You did not fail her,” said Cassandra gently.

“She is dead,” said Leliana bluntly, staring at the statue of Andraste. Then, turning to walk back to her table, “You saw her, you spoke with her. Do you believe it was her?”

“I do not know,” said Cassandra, following slowly. “It could have been her spirit—a ghost... or a remnant of her, lingering. Or perhaps a spirit touched her, and this was its memory of her, caught somehow. I want to believe, but I do not know. But... perhaps it does not matter. It helped us, as she would have.”

“Did you hear its message to me?” said Leliana, looking at her directly for the first time. “Do you know what it meant?”

“Yes,” said Cassandra. “And no. I do not understand the message. I think... that you are the only one who is capable of understanding it.”

Leliana said nothing. She only picked up the puzzle box and began to play with it, opening and shutting the secret drawers.

*           *           *

The Inquisitor was in Emprise and Leliana was in Caer Bronach when word came about Montbéliard. Or, more accurately, perhaps, when word did _not_ come. One of Josephine’s diplomats, a clever and experienced woman named Lady Guinevere Volant, had been sent to investigate reports of unrest among the local Dalish, and had sent warning that something was afoot there; Duke Antoine had a new advisor, one from Tevinter, whose insistent approaches she was doing her best to avoid. And then no more reports came, only, finally, a messenger from Montbéliard with the news that Lady Guinevere had, _most_ unfortunately, succumbed to the illness currently ravaging the city, an illness blamed on a curse unleashed by the Dalish.

Josephine did not believe in the elven curse for a minute, certainly not when she knew that there was a Tevinter, perhaps Venatori, agent in the mix. Something needed to be done, and quickly; Montbéliard was small but strategically important to the Inquisition. If the Dalish were attacking the city, whether through a curse or other means, it must be stopped.

She could not consult with Trev or Leliana, but she could discuss the matter with Cullen, and did so. He agreed that the Inquisition needed to move quickly. As they currently did not have enough troops within reach to send in numbers large enough to overwhelm opposition, the problem must be diplomatically addressed.

And that meant, Josephine decided, that she herself must travel to Montbéliard. The fact that her diplomat had died there was worrisome, but not enough to stop her; if a Venatori agent was acting against them, it must be risked. She explained her plan to Cullen, wrote a report for the Inquisitor and spymaster to read when they returned, and left as soon as she was able, accompanied by a small group of soldiers.

She never reached Montbéliard. Her party was ambushed some distance from the city by a band of Dalish, and she was taken prisoner.

None of the soldiers accompanying her had been killed, although there were injuries; the elves had simply done what was necessary to seize Josephine and then melted back into the forest. The soldiers regrouped and the lieutenant sent a scout to report back to Skyhold.

The Inquisitor was the first to return to Skyhold, and had time to read Josephine’s report and begin to worry before the scout arrived with the news that she had been abducted.

Trev's first reaction was to go absolutely still. “Thank you,” she said finally to the scout, who had been watching her nervously. “Have you reported this to anyone else?”

“No,” said the scout. “I came directly to you.”

“Good. Do not speak of this to anyone,” she said, and gestured for him to go.

“Yes, Inquisitor.” The man nodded and escaped.

She stood for a moment longer, until she thought her rage and panic were at least partly under control. Allowing them free rein would not be helpful. She must think strategically, she must think clearly, for Josephine's sake. Calling back her troops from their deployments and sending them all in to Montbéliard to wipe out every elf within reach was not necessarily the most appropriate strategy, no matter how tempting.

And oh, she was tempted. If it had just been the Ambassador of the Inquisition, if it had just been the abduction of a senior Inquisition official, it would have been bad enough. But this was _Josephine_.

She called for runners, sent one for Cullen and one for Cassandra. They arrived almost together, and she did not waste time. “The Ambassador's party was attacked by a group of Dalish on the way to Montbéliard,” she said. “No one was killed, but Josephine has been abducted. We do not yet know why.”

She waited until the uproar had settled down a little, which took some time, before trying to say more. Cassandra clearly wanted to go hit something, or preferably someone; she was pacing the length of the War Room, her hands twitching. Cullen was equally angry, but very slightly more restrained; he did not pace, but his knuckles were white on his sword hilt. But finally the Seeker stopped, turned, and said, “Do you know anything more?”

Trev had by now had a little time to think. “They did not kill anyone. And they did not assassinate Josephine; they took her as a prisoner. That means this is a hostage situation. There is something they want. They will send their demands, and then we will know more.

“Cassandra, I am asking you to stand on the council of advisors in Josephine’s place, until she is returned to us. I need your experience; we must pool as many ideas as we can in responding to this. Will you do that?”

“Yes,” said the Seeker, without hesitation.

Trev looked at Cullen. “Do we have forces we can call on to help with this?”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. “We do not have troops near Montbéliard, but there are two companies that could be moved there. It will take time, though.”

“Do it,” said the Inquisitor. “But hold them nearby, not in Montbéliard itself, or near the areas the Dalish occupy. If possible, keep the movements secret—though I do not suppose that will be possible. But come up with a reason to move them that has nothing to do with the city or the Dalish.”

“I can do that,” said the commander.

“We also need information,” said Trev. “I will send agents to the city; when Leliana returns she can do more.” She looked at the two of them. “We must not panic. But we need to know more, and we need to be prepared to move immediately when we do. And we shall move, oh yes.” She knew her anger was showing, and did not care. “But until we have more information, I think that we must hold back and move with caution. Do you agree?”

“Yes,” said Cullen. “If we make the wrong move, it is Josephine who is likely to suffer for it.”

Cassandra was slower to answer. “You are probably right,” she said eventually, “but I do not like to wait.”

“Nor do I,” said Trev bitterly. “But I cannot see any other choice.”

*           *           *

Leliana, who had received a bird from her agents when news of the abduction first arrived and who had travelled night and day to get back to Skyhold, arrived a day and a half after Trev and was not inclined to wait for anything. It was with great difficulty that the Inquisitor was able to convince her to hold off for a day or two more before responding to the kidnapping.

“Every moment can make a difference, Inquisitor,” she said. She was very pale and her eyes were shadowed. “We cannot afford to wait.”

“We can, and will,” said Trev firmly. “We will make no irrevocable moves until we know exactly who has Josephine and what they are after. If we move without information, we may panic them and do more harm than good.”

The spymaster stared at her. “It is _Josephine_.”

“I am aware of that,” said Trev sharply. “As I am aware that she is a negotiator—the best we have. She is an expert at dealing with delicate situations. Letting her handle this may in fact be our best option. In any case, we will _not_ blunder in without knowing what the situation is. We are moving two companies to the area, and I have already sent three of your agents to the city to try to find out what is happening there. We will gather what information we can, but we will _not_ pursue them directly until we understand what they want from us.”

Leliana nodded, eventually. Trev hoped that it signalled acquiescence; she was not absolutely certain that it did. Perhaps the spymaster would listen to Cassandra, if she would not listen to the Inquisitor. But she was not certain the spymaster would listen to anyone at this point; her ability to think rationally and objectively seemed to be unravelling.

And that was something Trev understood all too well.

A message did arrive on the third day after word of the abduction had reached Skyhold, a very short one: _We have your Ambassador. We require your assurances of safety before we meet to discuss terms_. There were details as to how to reply; the instructions were complex and carefully designed to prevent the Inquisition from following any message sent in reply to the abductors' location.

This message was followed almost immediately by a second:

_To the Inquisition: I write for Clan Lavellan, of the valley of Chevreuse. We write to tell you that we have only now learned that certain young members of our clan have behaved foolishly and without honour, taking your Ambassador hostage. They have done this after being directly forbidden to do so by myself and the elders of the clan._

_Their hope is to force you to intervene in Montbéliard on the side of the Dalish. There has been great sickness there, and it is being said that this is the result of a Dalish curse. It is not. But the nobles are stirring up feeling against us, and there have been violent incidents. We believe that it will not be long before we are attacked._

_After what our youth have done, we do not ask you to support us. We do ask that you investigate the situation to uncover whatever is truly going on, and hope that you will do so before the situation goes beyond control._

_We do not believe that our youth intend harm to your Ambassador. Though foolish and misguided, they are well-intentioned in their desire to protect the clan. We know that you must respond, but we ask that your response will be tempered by understanding. We will gladly work with you to ensure the safe release of your Ambassador, and ask that you meet with us, under your terms._

_Dareth shiral, Keeper Istimaethoriel Lavellan_

“They have taken Josephine and they expect us to work with them?” spat Leliana. “And they expect us to believe that the Keeper cannot control the youth of their clan? I think this is likely a trick to weaken our response.”

“That may well be,” said Trev. “But youth have been known to do foolish, dangerous things against the orders of their elders, and the Keeper has told us exactly where the clan may be found, freely giving us a weapon against them if we choose to take it.” She paused and thought, biting her lip, then said, “I think we must prepare for every contingency. We will accept the Keeper's offer and meet with them, and see where that leads us. But we will also plan and prepare for the alternative, that they are working with Josephine’s captors. We know where they are; we can use that. We can send agents to them with messages, and at the same time observe them and gather information that will allow us to move quickly if we must. We could place our troops near the clan, but that would show that we distrust them, and allow them to plan countermoves, so I think that would not be wise. We need a plan that is subtle enough to execute quickly, without giving them warning that we do not trust them.”

“The simplest solution would be to take their Keeper when we meet with them,” said Leliana.

“No,” said Trev. “If they are offering in good faith, that would simply escalate the conflict and might well put Josephine in even more danger. We will meet with them as if we trust them. But... we will observe them closely. If we discover that they are working with the abductors, what you suggest would be an effective countermove. Set up a plan of action for taking the Keeper, and perhaps her First, that we can implement quickly, and put the pieces in place.

“In the meantime, we will meet with the Keeper. We will also meet with the abductors, exactly as they require, follow their instructions, and give them safe-conduct away from the meeting. And,” she looked hard at the spymaster, “the abductors will not be followed when they leave. It is possible that we may wish to follow them in future, but they will certainly be exceedingly careful about being followed the first time we meet, and I do not wish to do anything that might risk Josephine's safety.”

Leliana’s mouth moved very slightly, as if she wished to say something, but she remained silent.

Trev had two messages sent. The first, to the abductors, said, _We agree to hear your terms. We expect that our Ambassador will be treated with the utmost respect and care, as a pre-requisite for peaceful negotiation_.

The second said: _To Keeper Istimaethoriel Lavellan, the respects of the Inquisition. We will meet with you to discuss these matters_ , and specified a time and place to do so.

*           *           *

Keeper Istimaethoriel was old, but she moved quickly and gracefully. Her eyes were very sober. “Andaran atish’an, Inquisitor,” she said. “I am very glad that you were willing to meet with me. This is a terrible thing. Clan Lavellan asks that you will allow us to work with you to retrieve your Ambassador.”

“We both have an interest in solving this problem without bloodshed, Keeper,” said Trev. “Have you any word?”

“Your Ambassador is safe,” said the Keeper. “One of those who abducted her sent a message, so although we do not know where they are holding her, we do have some information. It has become clear that the nobles of Montbéliard intend to scapegoat us for the illness there, and that we will be killed if we do not flee; our defenses are not sufficient to stand against all the nobles of Montbéliard together with the surrounding lands. We do not wish to leave the valley, but it seems that we may have no choice. But many of our youth have lived here all their lives, and wish to fight for their homes.

“We have agents who gather information for us, for our own protection, and we received word that your Ambassador was travelling to Montbéliard. A youth named Tamirel proposed that we hold her as hostage in order to force the Inquisition to protect us. This was a foolish idea, and quickly rejected. But Tamirel has supporters, and a group of seven determined to act on their own. Their action has stained the honour of Clan Lavellan, and we wish to make reparations.

“I have been able to get neither our youth nor the nobles to listen to reason. I do not ask you to protect us against the city. But I _can_ guarantee your safety if you choose to speak with your Ambassador's captors; they would not raise arms against their own clan if we stand beside you. I wish to find a peaceful settlement to this, one where no one is harmed.”

“As do we,” said Trev. “We accept your offer of assistance. We will meet Josephine’s captors with you. And with your permission, we will send agents with ravens to your camp, in order that we may communicate quickly and freely.”

And to this the Keeper freely assented.

*           *           *

The meeting with the abductors was not entirely satisfactory. The young elf who came to negotiate, Tamirel, was sullen and avoided looking at the Keeper. “Your Ambassador is safe,” he said. “She will remain safe as long as we are protected. But if Montbéliard attacks we cannot guarantee her safety.”

“The Inquisition does not respond to threats,” said Trev. “But I will agree to have the situation in Montbéliard investigated. This is in fact what our Ambassador was travelling to do; it is unfortunate that your action prevented her from doing what you seem to be asking us to do. We will meet again and discuss it further after I know more. In the meantime we expect our Ambassador to be very well treated, and there will be consequences if she is not.”

“We are not barbarians!” said the youth, offended.

“No?” said Trev, her eyes cold. “We will see.”

*           *           *

From Josephine's point of view everything was going rather smoothly. The young Dalish were excitable, of course, but with careful handling could be made to see reason, or at least a precursor of reason.

She had been roughly handled when they took her, but that was to be expected. Since then she had been treated with great respect. The food was only adequate, the bed uncomfortable, but this was natural under the circumstances. A more important concern was their reticence in speaking to her, as that limited her influence. But the Ambassador was an expert in drawing people out, and they had begun to respond to her overtures. She had found out what was behind the trouble in Montbéliard, at least from the perspective of the Dalish, and identified their concerns.

She only wished that she was the one who would be negotiating with her captors. She could see several solutions to the problem that would be diplomatically acceptable, given her understanding of the situation. It was frustrating to be sidelined in such discussions. But even from the sidelines there were things that she could do.

*           *           *

When the Inquisitor met the Keeper again, it was with information; agents had been able to get into Montbéliard, and more importantly, out again. “The illness was caused by a Venatori agent in Montbéliard, a Tevinter posing as an advisor to the Duke,” explained Trev. “He poisoned the wells with red lyrium.”

The Keeper’s face showed her shock. “That is—” She stopped.

“It is no longer an issue,” said Trev. “When this was uncovered our agents took steps to eliminate the Tevinter advisor, and were also able to destroy the red lyrium. However, the wells were poisoned some time ago, and the effects of withdrawal from any kind of lyrium are... substantial. The nobles of Montbéliard are not thinking logically, or even sanely, and we have not been able to convince them of the truth of what happened. They still blame the Dalish, and I am afraid there will still be violence.” She sighed. “We will need to plan for all possibilities. And we need to ensure our Ambassador's safety no matter what happens.”

The new information did not immediately change the abductors’ demands, though Trev could see that it shook the negotiator. “It does not matter what the reason for the threat is; we still require the protection of the Inquisition,” said Tamirel. “The Inquisition can send troops to take the city in the face of this madness. If you agree to do so, we will release your Ambassador.”

“If we send a force in we will be declaring war on an Orlesian city,” said Cullen. “We _cannot_ do such a thing when we need Orlesian support against Corypheus. There must be another way.”

“The nobles will attack the city elves first,” said the Keeper. “If we send Dalish fighters into the city, we may be able to prevent a massacre simply by making it clear that the cost of attacking would be too high. I am prepared to do this, Tamirel. Will you not accept this?”

The young elf looked uncertain. “I—I will discuss it with the others.” This was a definite softening of position. Trev thought that Josephine must be having an influence, which was hopeful.

Josephine had sent them messages through Tamirel. She reported that she was well, and hinted that her own attempts at negotiation were yielding some results in terms of the attitudes of the youth who held her. Trev thought that if there was time the Ambassador might well have been able to settle the whole thing herself; the problem was that with the irrationality of the Montbéliard nobles, time was what they did not have.

*           *           *

A day later the Inquisitor, Cassandra and Cullen met in the War Room to discuss interim progress in negotiations; Leliana had previously begged off that day’s meeting, saying that she had need to leave Skyhold to address an urgent issue. So they were all together when one of Leliana’s runners brought a message. “A bird came,” he said, and handed the Inquisitor a slip of paper. Trev unfolded it, saw Leliana’s handwriting, and read:

_We cannot afford to wait for negotiations to settle this. When Josephine is returned to the Inquisition, safe and well, the Keeper and her First will be returned to Clan Lavellan._

Trev crumpled the paper in her fist. She did not know what was on her face, but Cassandra and Cullen were looking at her in alarm. The runner looked frankly terrified, and escaped from the room as quickly as possible. She passed on the slip of paper.

“This is—this is dreadful,” said Cullen, looking stunned.

“What is she thinking?” exclaimed Cassandra, pacing in agitation. “This is beyond foolishness.”

“She is not entirely wrong,” said Trev bitterly; “ there _is_ no time left. Montbéliard is about to explode, and soon we will have no choices left at all. But this... We must tell Tamirel.”

“We cannot!” exclaimed Cullen. “They will kill Josephine!”

“They will find out from the rest of the clan if we do not tell them,” said Cassandra, and Trev nodded.

Tamirel came quickly when they sent an urgent message. It was not a pleasant few minutes when they told him that the Keeper and First had been taken as surety for Josephine’s safety. But Trev kept her face impassive in the face of his threats, and at the end, when he ran out of invective, said, “Do you wish to save your clan or not? Our Seneschal has taken matters into her own hands, against our wishes—just as you took matters into your own hands against the wishes of your Keeper. You have my word as Inquisitor: if Josephine is released I will ensure that the Keeper and First are released, and then we will continue to work with you to prevent the nobles of Montbéliard from destroying your clan. But if Josephine is harmed...” She paused. “We value our Ambassador greatly. If she is harmed, the Inquisition will exterminate Clan Lavellan.” And she turned and walked out.

*           *           *

When Tamirel brought back word of what had happened, Josephine was having tea with her captors and discussing the problem of Venatori activities. She had achieved a level of familiarity with them that was not quite friendship; they did not trust her enough for that. But it was a measure of her success that when Tamirel brought word they all turned to her.

“Well,” she said, “our Seneschal has decided to call your bluff.”

“With one of her own?” said Tamirel.

“Leliana does not bluff,” said Josephine. “She does exactly what she says she will do. And so does the Inquisitor. Honestly, neither of them are very good diplomats.” This was not exactly true—Leliana was actually very good at bluffing, if not diplomacy, and she thought Trev showed great potential—but this was not a time to get into particulars. Furthermore, she was not altogether certain that in this case either of them _was_ bluffing, a thought which, although tactically alarming, warmed her through and through. She looked at the dismayed faces of the Dalish. “So now we must decide what is to be done.”

*           *           *

The seven Dalish who had taken Josephine brought her to the place Leliana had specified, an old estate fallen into decay, and walked with her into the exposed centre of the main hall as Leliana's instructions required them to do. Leliana walked across the stone flags to meet them, and as she did a dozen of her agents ghosted from the shadows, surrounding them. “Lay down your weapons,” she said.

“No,” said Josephine quickly. “It is not necessary. Where are the Keeper and the First?”

“Your captors must surrender first,” said the spymaster. “Then I will release them.”

“No,” said Josephine again. “I told them that if they released me they would not be required to surrender, that the Keeper and First would be returned, and that there would be no retaliation.”

“But I was not party to that negotiation,” said Leliana softly.

“You did not _offer_ to negotiate,” said Josephine sharply. “But I am the Inquisition’s Ambassador. I have the right to negotiate agreements on behalf of the Inquisition—and the right to hold both sides to it.”

Leliana stared at her for a moment, then said, “Speak with me privately,” and nodding to her agents, turned away. Josephine gave the seven Dalish a reassuring smile and followed her to an alcove at the side of the room where they could see and be seen but where their conversation was marginally more private.

“I have negotiated a settlement,” said Josephine. “I have agreed that they will be free to go, together with the Keeper and First, and that there will be no retaliation, and that the Inquisition will work with them to solve the problem of Montbéliard and try to prevent a massacre. They believed me, because I also told them that the Inquisition’s Seneschal was a woman prepared to do whatever was necessary, if it was necessary, but that she was also a kind and reasonable woman who would be merciful.”

“You had no right!” hissed Leliana.

“I had every right!” said Josephine equally hotly. “Will you make a liar of me?”

Leliana’s eyes were shadowed by her hood. “You _know_ that I am not kind,” she said.

“No,” said Josephine. “I know that you _are_ kind. It is not something you can simply stop being when it is inconvenient, when your sense of duty insists that there is no choice. You _do_ have a choice. Whether to be merciful in this case, or to punish those whose crime was only to be desperate—that is your choice. And there is no good reason not to be merciful.”

“ _Damn_ you,” said Leliana bitterly, and turned away, and stood very still for some time. Eventually she signalled to her agents; one disappeared and returned with the Keeper and First.

“Andaran atish’an, Keeper,” said the Ambassador carefully. “I am Josephine Montilyet. I apologize for the... inconveniences afforded you. I have negotiated an agreement between the Inquisition and those who held me; you are all free to go. But we ask that you work with us in an effort to deal with the problem at Montbéliard. The Inquisition values the Dalish and wishes to remain on good terms.”

The Keeper looked hard at her, and then at Leliana's back. “ _Can_ you speak for the entire Inquisition?” she asked.

“I believe so, yes,” said Josephine. “There will of course be discussions as to past and future policy and decisions. But the Inquisitor, as I understand it, has already committed to work with Clan Lavellan in order to protect its interests.”

Leliana had turned back to face them. “You are free to go, Keeper,” she said clearly. “My agents will not prevent you and will not follow you.” She nodded to them both, and walked away.

Istimaethoriel watched her go. “That one cares too much,” she said.

*           *           *

The first War Table meeting after Josephine returned to Skyhold a week later was more than a little tense. Cassandra had made it clear that with Josephine’s return she would no longer serve as an advisor, and escaped that duty with obvious relief. Josephine looked at the three who stood round the table with her and wondered if the Council as it stood could survive the events of the last weeks. There was no idle chat of the kind that was usual before their meeting started. Cullen looked uncomfortable, and fiddled with the hilt of his sword. Leliana had placed herself a little apart from the others, a position that increased the shadowing of her face. The Inquisitor, who had just arrived, was surveying all of them with a kind of watchful attention that was both highly focused and not entirely friendly.

“Well,” said Trev after a moment, “there is one thing we must get out of the way before we get to other business. And that is the matter of Josephine’s abduction and rescue.” She paused. “Everything has ended reasonably well. Josephine is safe. There was no massacre of the city elves or the Dalish, and the Keeper was able to use magic to help alleviate the effects of the lyrium withdrawal. Most of the residents of Montbéliard saw what was happening, and fought with the Dalish against the nobles. But there were too many deaths, including that of the Duke, who died at the hands of his own nobles while trying to protect the elves. This has left the city without a head, though the Keeper has taken control for now. But the nobles who fled are spreading lies about the Inquisition’s support for a Dalish attack on the city. I have sent word to the Empress and our supporters, explaining what really happened, but not everyone will believe us. We have not seen the end of this, and it is not yet clear what further harm may come of it. But we will deal with that as it comes.”

She looked at Leliana. “There remains the question of our spymaster taking matters into her own hands, and moving without the knowledge or approval of the Council.”

Leliana looked up at that, although she avoided the Inquisitor's eyes. “I would not have received approval from the Council.”

“Perhaps not,” said Trev. “But you might have; we were reaching a point where our options were limited and it was clear that some kind of action must be taken. But you did _not_ ask. You moved as an individual, and used the resources of the Inquisition to support you.”

“If things had gone wrong,” said Cullen, “it could have been very bad for Josephine.”

“That is not likely,” said Josephine, pacifically. “I had been working with my captors, and they were not unreasonable, not needlessly cruel; they were just desperate.”

“But desperation makes people do foolish things,” said Trev, who was still watching Leliana, “so it is not good to bet on them behaving sensibly.

“It comes to this; your action put Josephine at risk, and even if you thought the risk was lower following your path, it still existed; if we had chosen this action as a group, as a group we might also have been able to work to make the risks smaller. Your action also put the Inquisition itself at risk—it could have made the Dalish our enemies, so that at best we would lose all chance of their support, or at worst making us fight on two fronts. Either of these outcomes would have weakened us badly. Even now, there may be other consequences that we do not yet know. Do you have anything to say about this, Leliana?”

“What can I say?” said the spymaster quietly. “I made a choice to go against the will of the Council. I cannot say I would not do it again, because I still believe that it was the only solution. Perhaps I am wrong in this. It may be best that I remove myself from this Council.”

“No,” said Cullen and Josephine, almost in unison.

The Inquisitor looked at them all thoughtfully, last at Leliana. “No,” she said, “that solves nothing. We need you on the Council. And if we are honest, I think that there are circumstances under which all of us might choose to act as you did; certainly I know that is true for myself.” Leliana looked at her then for the first time. “But... our duty is to the Inquisition, and as the Inquisition, we cannot afford such divisions.

“This war will kill many of us, one way or another. I believe that everyone in this room would willingly sacrifice themselves if doing so means that Corypheus can be stopped for once and for all; it is when it comes to sacrificing others that things get more complicated. I would not have balked at action to protect Josephine when I thought it was truly necessary. This was not a situation where her sacrifice, or anyone's sacrifice, was needed. We disagreed only on the amount of danger she was in, and the best plan for rescuing her. But it is not just a question of your preferring your strategy to ours, is it? You did not trust that we would take action if it was needed. You do not really trust us. You trust no one but yourself.”

Leliana was very still. “If I did not trust you, I would not be serving the Inquisition.”

“You are guided by your _duty_ to the Inquisition and its goals,” said Trev, her face implacable. “But that is not trust. We will never win this battle if duty is our only guide; there must be more to balance it. I do not expect you to magically begin to trust us. But I do require that you begin to behave as if you did. Can you do that?”

There was a long silence, and then Leliana nodded. “Yes.”

And so they moved on to other things. There was a certain wariness in their interactions, but it was more natural than it had been. Josephine watched Leliana when she could do so discreetly. The spymaster seemed slightly distracted, as if stunned by a blow that had not quite yet had its full effect.

*           *           *

After the meeting Josephine sought Leliana out, catching her as she passed through the Ambassador's offices.

“I wanted to thank you,” she said. “I might disagree with your methods, but I know that your intentions were simply to free me. And I am very happy that you allowed me to permit the Dalish to go free.”

Leliana looked past her. “You are a valuable part of the Inquisition, Ambassador,” she said. “It was critical that we... retrieve you. The rest was less important.”

“Still, I thank you,” said Josephine, and Leliana nodded remotely and left.

Really, in some things the woman was far more difficult to deal with than Cassandra.

*           *           *

“Leliana,” said Cassandra, late that same day. The spymaster looked up from her papers.

“Have you come to berate me for what I did? The Inquisitor has done so already, and I assure you that she left nothing unsaid.”

“No,” said the Seeker. “I came to thank you. I do not like it that you did what you did without the approval of the Inquisitor and Council, but I am very, very glad that it led to Josephine's release.” The corner of her mouth twitched. “In truth, if I had been the only one making decisions, I would probably have started by attacking her abductors, and that would likely have been an even worse approach.”

Leliana looked down at her papers. “I—I did what I thought was necessary. The Inquisitor said that I did not trust the Inquisition to save Josephine... and I suppose that is true.”

“When she talked to your captors after you had taken the Keeper,” said Cassandra, “she threatened to exterminate the entire Lavellan clan if one hair on Josephine's head was harmed. She was not bluffing.”

Leliana stared at her. “I did not know that.”

“And she would not be likely to tell you,” said Cassandra. “But it is so, nonetheless. She instructed Cullen and me to make plans for the worst eventualities, including that one. She would not allow Josephine—not any of us—to be harmed if there was something she could do. Do not mistake her patience, her mercy, for an inability to act.”

“No,” said Leliana slowly. “I shall not.”

*           *           *

Things returned to a semblance of normality at Skyhold. Josephine was not entirely sure what to make of Leliana’s actions in rescuing her. She thought that Leliana must still care for her, or she would not have taken such extreme and foolish steps to recover her; and it had been a very foolish act indeed. This was a hopeful thought, though perhaps her heart might be equally foolish to think so.

But it was also, as the Inquisitor pointed out so clearly, the act of someone who trusted no one but herself.

Leliana had been very, very angry when she had been outmaneuvered by the Ambassador; Josephine thought that it had been a very near thing, and that Leliana had come uncomfortably close to rejecting the agreement in favour of a bloodbath. But in the end she _had_ allowed Josephine to outmaneuver her by accepting the terms of the agreement the Ambassador proposed.

Was that an act of trust?

Leliana remained aloof from everyone, and still looked unwell. Since Josephine’s rescue the spymaster had nothing to say to her, other than in War Table meetings. So it seemed likely that she was still angry. But... she _had_ given way on this matter of vengeance and mercy. And when she thought of that Josephine's heart could not but lift a little.

*           *           *

Cassandra, bringing messages to send, found the spymaster in the Rookery, playing with the puzzle box. “There is one drawer I have never been able to open,” she said. “I have never got the knack of it.”

“Perhaps it does not open at all,” said the Seeker, who had no patience whatsoever for such toys and found them simply infuriating.

“Perhaps,” said Leliana, “but that is not how these boxes are normally made. Some rust may have gotten into the mechanism.”

“Dagna might be able to help,” said Cassandra. “It seems the sort of puzzle she likes, and she may have experience with these, being a dwarf herself.”

“It is of no matter,” said Leliana, and put the box down. “You know, I have read the words of a philosopher who describes life itself as a puzzle box, set in motion by many hands, turned by them in many different directions. It is... an interesting conceit.”

“Other hands may set us in motion,” said Cassandra, “but I cannot believe that we are incapable of choosing our direction, or that the Maker would make us so.”

“No?” said the spymaster. “But the mechanisms of our duty sometimes plays a role before choice, certainly, as you well know.”

Cassandra frowned; she did not much enjoy philosophical discussions. “Duty gives us something to cleave to,” she said eventually. “But that duty must follow greater principles; it does not exist on its own. We must believe in something before we place our trust in our duty to it. Without that, duty is nothing but a choice without a reason.”

Leliana reached out and brushed a little dust away from a gem on the puzzle box. “It is not always so simple.”

“Is it not?” said Cassandra.

*           *           *

Things went on; the Inquisition continued to build its forces and try to prepare for battle with Corypheus. Some weeks after Josephine's return, at Leliana’s request, Trev agreed to accompany the spymaster to a small village called Valence. Divine Justinia, the Inquisitor explained privately to Josephine before they departed, had left a letter for Leliana, to be delivered in the event of her death. The letter, only just received, told her that something had been hidden for her in the Chantry in the village. Leliana believed that this “something” would be of great importance, possibly strategically critical for the Inquisition, and wished to find it as quickly as possible. Trev was not convinced of the urgency of the excursion, but was willing to accompany the spymaster when asked to do so. Josephine suspected that the Inquisitor was almost as worried about Leliana as she was herself.

*           *           *

They were gone for a week, and arrived back at Skyhold very late at night. On the morning after their return, Trev wandered casually into Josephine’s office. “I did not have an opportunity to ask last night, Inquisitor,” said the Ambassador, looking up from her writing. “Was your expedition successful?”

“We did not find what Leliana expected, I think, but yes,” said Trev, drawing the word out thoughtfully, “I believe we were.”

Josephine looked at her, puzzled. “Leliana hoped to find a weapon, did she not? Was there nothing like that, then?”

“Actually,” said the Inquisitor, “there was nothing at all. Except an empty box with an inscribed message for Leliana.” She sounded very pleased.

Josephine simply looked at her and waited. Private messages to Leliana from the Divine were none of her business; she would not ask.

Trev headed toward the door, and then stopped. “The message was that the Left Hand should lay down her burden,” she said. “It is somewhat enigmatic, to be sure, but I know what _my_ interpretation of it is, and I think that Leliana understood it in the same way, and has taken it to heart. Although severely tempted, she did not kill the Chantry sister who was spying for Grand Cleric Victoire, who is now proven to be working against the Inquisition. She chose to let her go. I think perhaps our spymaster has begun to find her balance again.” She gave Josephine a wide smile, and left, whistling.

*           *           *

Josephine thought for a long time that night before she went to the Rookery; she was not certain at all that it was the right thing to do, or even a sensible thing to do. But she felt as if she had, for the first time in a long, long while, felt a tug on a fallen thread. It might be foolish, but she would do it.

It was very late. All of the agents were long gone, and Leliana was alone. She was playing with the puzzle box, opening and shutting all its drawers, a look of pleased satisfaction on her face. She looked up as Josephine approached, and her expression changed to something more guarded.

There was no point in small talk. “The Inquisitor said that the Divine left you a message,” Josephine said.

Leliana’s face lightened a little. “Yes,” she said. “She said that I must lay down my burden. I did not understand at first.”

“And you do now?”

There was a long, unexpected silence. “Yes,” said Leliana finally. “I believe so. It became more clear once I thought of the message sent from the Fade. She meant that I must choose my path, and not blindly follow the duty she set me.” She looked off into the darkness of the atrium.

“The Inquisitor was right when she said that I trusted no one but myself... and she was wrong. It was not myself that I trusted, but my duty to Justinia. She made me her Left Hand, and set me on a path. There was no one else who could do what I did for her, what she asked me to do. She had no choice... she needed me. She could not show mercy to me. Not then.”

“But Justinia died,” said Josephine gently, a question in her voice.

“That did not release me from my duty,” said Leliana, her eyes glittering. “I was still the Left Hand. And I—I believed I had failed her, that I must make amends.”

Josephine thought of all the things that Leliana had refused to discuss, the false carelessness with which she dismissed the things she did as the Left Hand, and the sweet kindness of the woman who had been her lover. “She used you cruelly,” said the Ambassador, who was abruptly not sure she could ever forgive Justinia for what she had done. “But surely she would not have asked this of you.”

“No,” said Leliana, “but I could not see that. I had not known that she regretted using me. She seemed so strong and merciless... But when Justinia fell, I could not let her go. I needed her strength. I made an idol of my duty to her, and let it drive me. I hated her for it. But now she has opened her hands and I see that there was always mercy there.”

“The lack of mercy is not always strength,” said Josephine. Leliana gave her a twisted smile.

“And the presence of mercy is not always a weakness,” she said. “Yes. There is a choice.”

After a moment, Josephine said, “Do you still hate her?”

“No. I have forgiven her,” said Leliana. “How could I not? I loved her. She was friend, mother, sister. She did only what she believed she must. Now I must do the same—but by my choice, not the requirements of duty.”

They sat in silence for a time, and for the first time in a long, long while, the silence between them was not uncomfortable.

“Leliana...” said Josephine eventually, hesitantly, “through it all... did you truly love me?”

Leliana swallowed. “Yes.” She seemed to gather herself. “But I thought—I could not—it does not matter. I was cruel. I am sorry. I am more sorry than I can say.”

After a moment, Josephine asked, “Do you love me still?”

Leliana’s head was tilted down, her eyes hidden in shadow. She was silent for a very long time. Josephine simply waited. She would wait as long as necessary.

“Yes,” said the spymaster finally.

Josephine did not realize at first that Leliana was weeping, because it was entirely in silence. She had seen tears in the spymaster’s eyes before, but she had never seen her weep like this, with no sign but a shudder running through her, a shudder that became a gasping bone-deep shaking that racked her whole body.

Josephine did not try to say anything to comfort her. She somehow got Leliana down to her own rooms, and onto the settee, and found a supply of handkerchiefs. (They had seen more use in the last months than in several years before, she thought to herself wryly, and at this rate she would soon need to purchase more.) Eventually the handkerchiefs were replaced by a cloth soaked in cold water, and she turned her attention to building up the fire and making tea. When it was ready she handed Leliana her cup, took her own, and sat beside her.

Eventually, when the tea was finished, Leliana said, “How can you be so kind, after all I have done?”

“I love you,” said Josephine simply. “I have never stopped loving you, even when I hated you most.”

Leliana caught her breath in a kind of gulping laugh. “Yes. And it is your nature to be merciful. You would always forgive me.”

Josephine narrowed her eyes and looked hard at the spymaster. “I am also an Antivan. My forgiveness is not unlimited. Do not think of _ever_ doing such a thing to me again.”

“No,” said Leliana, all humour gone from her voice. “I will not.” She shut her eyes. “Josie... I do not wish to hurt you.”

“But you still love me,” said the Ambassador.

Leliana nodded. “I never stopped. But...”

“Then will you not be merciful to yourself?” said Josephine, and put her hand on Leliana’s hand, and lifted it to her lips, and felt a tremor against her mouth.

“Josie—” Her voice shook.

“I am Antivan,” said Josephine, “and you already know that I am passionate. If you don’t know that I will take you back... well, you have not been paying attention. But if I take you back—you must be sure. And we must talk. I meant what I said about forgiveness.

“You do not have to choose tonight. You do not have to stay. Or if you wish to stay with me tonight, just to sleep and have someone near, and nothing else, I will hold you as you sleep.”

“But if you were holding me I would not wish to sleep,” said Leliana softly. "And I do wish to stay."

*           *           *

Much later, when the talking was done and the fire burnt down to embers, and the space between them seemed as wide as an ocean and as close as a breath, Josephine moved her hand to touch Leliana’s, and the spymaster twined their fingers together. And then Josephine reached with her other hand to push back Leliana's hood, and ran her fingers slowly through hair that seemed to flame in the candlelight, and leaned toward her. Leliana’s lips were as familiar as red wine, soft and sweet under hers. It was a gentle kiss, unhurried, and it went on for a long time, a revisiting of territory once well known, a renewal of acquaintance.

There was a shifting, an accommodation of bodies on the settee, arms around each other, and still they kissed, and eventually the kisses grew more ardent, and Josephine felt Leliana’s breathing stutter out of time, as unsteady as her own. Her hands found the clasps and buckles and laces of Leliana’s mail and gambeson, so familiar after all this time, and undid them one by one until the spymaster shifted and shrugged them away to drop to the floor, and now there was only Leliana in shirt and breeches, and no armour between them. She found the fastenings of the fine wool shirt and loosened them, slid her hands over the smooth curving silk beneath it and heard Leliana’s breath catch. The spymaster’s hands were on Josephine's clothing now, tugging at ties and loosening fastenings, until all was in disarray and they were tangled together, touching thin fabric over skin, touching skin itself, and kissing, kissing, kissing.

After a time, feeling light-headed, Josephine untangled herself and stood, pulling Leliana with her, and then it was easy to shed the last of the encumbering clothes. And as they fell away Leliana’s hands were in her hair, pulling the pins loose until it cascaded dark and tangled over both of them as they slipped beneath the fine linen sheets on Josephine's bed. And there they kissed again, their bodies one curving line together.

Josephine could feel hard nipples brushing against her own breasts, could feel the warmth of flesh, the delicate curve of bone at a hip as she ran her hand down over Leliana’s ribs and flank. Leliana’s body was an exhilarating mix of long smooth muscle and the gentle swelling of hips and breasts, endlessly intoxicating. Josephine had always loved touching her lover, loved the feel of her skin, of muscles sliding and stretching against her, loved the way Leliana responded to her touch. She had thought she would never touch the spymaster in this way again; and now she had Leliana in her arms, and under her hands and mouth, and she wanted only to take her time, to touch every beloved inch of skin, and then touch it again.

She bent her head and kissed the spymaster's neck, then her collarbone, then let her lips slip lower to the gentle rise of her breast, feeling Leliana’s breathing deepen and begin to speed up as Josephine's mouth wandered over her skin. Unhurried, her lips traced a line from one breast to the other, then back again. The palm of her hand ran feather light over ribs and hips, over hips and down her flank, then slid up the inside of Leliana’s thigh and over her belly to ribs again. She stroked the back of Leliana’s knees, teased the crook of an elbow, the delicate skin on the inside of wrists, and her lips followed her hands. She left no spot within reach untouched, save one.

And finally, when Leliana’s breath was rough and her body strained toward Josephine’s touch, moving helplessly against her, she slid down between Leliana’s thighs, shifting to settle comfortably. Leliana gasped when Josephine touched her, tasted her, her hips rising against her lover's mouth and tongue. She tasted of sunshine and spices and wild ocean, of long hot nights under southern skies. She tasted of home. Josephine felt the sting of tears and thought that she had never been so happy.

She was in no hurry, no hurry at all.

But Leliana could only be teased for so long; she was wound far too tight, and it was not so long before she was gasping, her hips rising, and then her back arched and her breathing stopped altogether, and then she fell back, taking deep shuddering breaths.

Josephine slid up to lie beside her, still half over her; she buried her face in Leliana’s neck, inhaled the heady scent of her, and moved her hand to let it rest between Leliana’s thighs, feeling the pulse against her palm. Leliana’s breath caught, and she moved restlessly, and then again, and she turned her head and whispered, "Please, Josie," against Josephine’s mouth, and began to kiss her. And Josephine moved her hand, found warmth around her fingers, and pressed deeper, and again; and Leliana, who always made love in perfect silence, had stopped kissing her and was making helpless low breathy sounds against her throat, her hips rocking and her hands clenching on her lover’s back; and then Josephine curled her fingers and Leliana cried out hoarsely and rose to her.

Afterwards, she realized that Leliana was weeping again, and said, "Mi corazon, my love, what is it?" and the spymaster simply wrapped her arms around her and pulled her closer; and Josephine asked no further questions, and only held her.

But later, when she had calmed a little, Leliana whispered into her neck, "When I was with Marjolaine... she could make me forget myself. But it was all a lie. After that... I swore that no one would make me lose myself in that way." And she would or could say no more; but Josephine read between the lines of what she did not say, and murmured to her, silly, comforting things, and made her laugh.

And later again, when Leliana’s hands, Leliana’s mouth were on her, and the sweet dragonfire ran through her bones, dissolving her and then stitching her together and leaving her reborn, Josephine felt that the world was being rewoven, each piece in its place, each story biting its own tail, the gold thread running through the darkness and pulling all together; and she was content to find her place in the tale, and her heart in the hands of the woman beside her.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have been thinking a lot about Leliana recently. The Leliana in Inquisition is very different from the Leliana in Origins, and not in a good way; it's almost a complete reversal of personality traits. She is much more hardened and private and cynical and reserved. My headcanon on her, based on what is presented in the games and all that thinking I've done, is that she has become someone who has some pretty serious emotional dysfunction and would therefore be likely to have some Serious Issues around personal relationships, issues that would mean that a relationship with Josephine would not be likely to be automatically all hearts and kittens and happy-ever-after. Not without work, at least.
> 
> So I started out to write a story about the trials and tribulations Josephine might encounter in dealing with those issues when they arise in the relationship, from her point of view, adding a little bit of other POVs, mostly from Trev and Cassandra, to cover some details Josephine would not have direct knowledge of. But never from Leliana's point of view, because it was Josephine's story.
> 
> And then it got more complicated. Picture this convo: Me: [describes main points of overall plot.] Partner: "So you're writing the Left Hand of the Divine quest." Me: .... "Um... yeah. I guess so."
> 
> And of course, that quest is all Leliana.
> 
> When I realized that it was at least as much Leliana's story as Josephine's, if not more, I considered whether I should introduce her point of view. And decided: no. Doing it from the POV of everyone _except_ Leliana made everything a bit more challenging, but I think it makes sense in terms of her character. 
> 
> This story obviously does not follow canon. Apart from the non-canonical pairings, I've played fast and loose with some of the game related content, especially war table operations. A number of items are likely out of their natural order or have been modified, as in the case of the "Meet Orlesian Mercenaries" operation. Bits of conversation have sometimes been moved from their original context, or someone else might speak the lines.
> 
> Those who have a good knowledge of Inquisition details will have noticed that my most egregious "canon, what canon?" moment was to borrow the Lavellan clan quest, which normally would not appear in the storyline of a Trevelyan Inquisitor, and modified it to serve as the narrative basis for Josephine's abduction. But Wycome, the city in that quest, is at the far side of the Free Marches, much too far away for meetings between abductors and Skyhold to be held regularly, and even my high-end suspension of disbelief capabilities couldn't cope with that, so I have replaced it with an invented Orlesian city called Montbéliard.
> 
> In some ways it was a struggle to write this one, but I'm pretty happy with the results. I hope y'all like it.


End file.
